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Neiv York : 

W. D. ROWLAND, Publisher, 
85 Warren Street. 


LEI 8 .URE-TIME SERIES, NO. 16. APRIL 1892. ISSUED MONTHLY. $3 00 PER YEAR. ENTERED AT THE POST-OFFICE 

AT NEW YORK, N. Y. AS SECOND CLASS MATTER. 


F^re DERICK Giles 





f 



o 


The Mysterious Mr. Jarvis 











CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Prefatoky 5 

CHAPTER I. 

Introducing a Gentleman 7 

CHAPTER IT. 

Unto Better Acquaintance. , . . . „ 18 

CHAPTER III. 

The Tragic Circumstance . . . . . .27 

CHAPTER IV. 

In Vulgaria 32 

CHAPTER Y. 

Some Vulgarians. . 39 

CHAPTER VI. 

Even-handed Justice 51 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Vanishing Man 64 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Deeply Confidential . 

iii 


75 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHIPTEE IX. 
Under Cover of Night 

CHAPTER X. 

The Limit of Patience . . 

CHAPTER XL 

The Dawn of a Critical Day . 

CHAPTER XII. 
Royal Fellows 

CHAPTER XIII. 
In Darkness and Storm 

CHAPTER XIY. 


The Drag-net 


CHAPTER XV. 


Cheating the Hangman 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Inquisitorial Mercies ... 

CHAPTER XVII. 
The Mysterious” Mr. Jarvis . 


92 

104 

116 

128 

142 

157 

175 

191 

208 


PREFATORY 


Thee® is lifcfcle to be said by way of explanation, apology 
or boast, in opening a relation so absolutely of fact. 

It is, however, essential to warn all those who deny 
photography a place in art, that they can stoop or rise, as it 
may be, to little sympathy with this record, which is nothing 
if not true. Yet, while aspiring to be true to life,” these 
chapters emphatically disclaim classification within a real- 
ism that regards carnality the sum of human error. This 
chronicle thus, is neither of fancy nor of salacious truth. 

The matter of strong drink, which in large part affects 
what may be called the moral of the tale, is one of the most 
notorious questions of present discussion and must teach 
its own lesson unaided, here or elsewhere, throughout 
the text. 

Hi 5|e 

Such is the arbitrary choice of fate, that human events are 
made to turn upon trifles. There is a familiar word about the 
rain of the previous night and the shake of a cattle boy’s 
head, either or both of which decided Waterloo. 


6 


6 


PREFATORY. 


Glancing forward through this history it seems that its 
shaping fact is a dead sparrow. A boy passing through 
Eupert Square during the noon hour of May — , 188- threw 
a stone and killed a sparrow in the street. That little trag- 
edy brought together the elements of a notable chapter in 
the criminal history of Chicago. 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 

The plan of Kupert Square was a whim — but the history 
is unimportant. It conforms in no degree to the lines and 
angles of adjacent streets and is without known counter- 
part in American cities. Yet it is the gemmed heart of one 
of Chicago's best residence quarters. 

At a point upon the right decending side of one of the 
great macadam avenues of the ‘‘South Side,” the line of 
mansions halt, and there is a wide carriage-gate, beneath 
which a driveway diverts. Through this gate there is a view 
of shrubbery and building confused at first to the eye that 
anticipates familiar geometric forms. The diverting way 
followed, as it may be, down its broad pebbled center, or 
skirted upon a smooth, white flag, describes an accurate semi- 
circle, that debouches into the avenue a hundred yards 
below. The entrance and exit, terms which may be applied 
interchangeably to either end of the lane, are surmounted 

7 


8 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


by corresponding portes coclierer, one of which has been 
noticed. The square thus presents the form of the segment 
of a circle. Upon its outer arc — described by the path — 
stand the dwellings which, with exactly similar stone swell- 
fronts of three stories, exhibit an unbroken, semi-circular 
facade. The focal point from each doorway is the charm- 
ing park which fills the segment chorded bj" the broad 
avenue. 

The drive, which offers strictly no thoroughfare,” is ever 
neat ; its grassy margin is as clearly defined as the line 
between the river’s waters and the shore, and no vandal 
vehicle disturbs its pebbled surface, “under penalty” as 
legends posted at the gates declare. The traces of the 
morning and evening incursions of provisioners are quick- 
ly effaced, and the guardian gardener pursues with rake 
and broom even the occasional carriages that roll to the 
doors of the ‘‘ square’s ” inhabitants. 

The park itself is a fine conceit in landscape gardening. 
There is an abundance of the most select specimens of 
greenery and flowers ; there is a fountain and some pretty 
pieces of statuary ; there is a lakelet fringed with flags, 
dotted with lily-pads and stocked with fish ; there is a rustic 
bridge, rustic arbor and rustic settees, and there are winding 
paths attaining all these charms. 

At recurring intervals in the procession of months the 
snow and ice obscure these beauties to be sure, but the 
pleasant memory is treasured in the still hospitable surround- 
ings until springtime calls them back again. 

By culture’s caste-gauge the fifty families of the square are 


INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 


9 


of the peerage. Each stoop ascends and each door admits 
to conditions of good breeding and, it is well to saj, an 
incident of riches. The standard of intelligence is equal to 
the best contemporaneous literature and a considerable 
proficiency in music and art. The monthly magazines, the 
new novels, the little philosophies of the day and all the 
petty furores of the aesthetic world are taken with a good 
digestion. Such is the creditable degree of the square’s 
refinement, while there is everywhere through the land a 
jealous disclaimer of Chicago’s culture. There are many 
. handsome ladies, some real gentlemen, and a large comple- 
ment of very pretty children. It is to the best credit of 
an aspiring folk that their offspring are born fair — for how 
much is a parent soul defined in the features of the young ! 
There is a wide license of style and infinite beauty of taste 
in the dress of the children, and the boys and girls of Kupert 
Square complete the guarantee of culture. 

The community of spirit, the fraternity of feeling among 
the residents of the square is pefect. Each is the other’s 
welcome friend, and neighborly receptions are sans ceremonie 
throughout the year. A chastity-precluding gossip marks 
all intercourse, and good breeding sits too guardedly upon 
deportment that the neighborhood should ever be set agog. 
Yet, on an April morning of the year 188 — , a general anxiety 
was felt as to the possible standing of the purchaser and 
new occupant of number 50, the house at the extreme 
southern end of the square. The premises had been vacant 
for several weeks and it was known that negotiations for a 
sale had been pending. Now it appeared that sonae one had 


10 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


moved in unperceived. Entry must have been made 
under cover of night. No goods had been seen to go in, 
no one had witnessed the new arrival ; and yet a tidily dress- 
ed woman, of the general appearance of a professional 
housekeeper, stepped from the door of No. 50, in response 
to the milkman’s summons, that morning. She ordered her 
half-gallon can filled with milk, presented a small porcelain 
pitcher for cream, paid the pennies, and then bought a dol- 
lar’s worth of blue and yellow tickets each. The new 
neighbor thus was unquestionably a fixture. 

Immediately upon her return from her errand to the curb, 
and while the milkman continued his circuit of the 
‘ square, ’ ” the strange woman, who gave the first evidence 
of new life in No. 50, repaired to the kitchen. 

“I haven’t cooked in twenty years,” she remarked, and 
the master will have to make the allowance.” 

“ The furniture only makes matters worse. How I hate 
a new stove ! ” as she observed the smoldering condition of 
the fire and the jets of smoke which crept through the inter- 
stices of the range, and especially these odd arrangements. 
Ah, I guess I have it at last,” she concluded more graciously 
as, in pulling out a throttle-like knob, hidden half under 
the range, the smoke vanished and a cheerful roar from 
the iron casemate indicated that the fire had caught a 
draught. 

‘‘ I wonder, though, why they wanted to hide the damper 
in that fashion, and I’m sure that the oven won’t bake on 
the bottom,” she went on, with returning bad temper, as 
she glanced under the lid of a faintly-simmering pot of 


INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 


11 


cracked wheat porridge, and hurried thence to the paring of 
some selected potatoes. 

“ Dear me, it’s terrible queer the capers cut by the head of 
this house of late, but sure this is the worst of all. The 
idea of leaving the old home in Philadelphia and moving 
out west into a stuffy old barracks like this! Heigh-ho! 
If Mrs. Jarvis was living to-day it would be awful the feel- 
ings she’d have, and anyway I think the old man should 
respect my wishes and the wishes of poor old Thomas. 
We’ve been with him in joy and sorrow these fifteen years 
and shed our tears on the grave of his dead just the same as 
in the family. But it ain’t to be, worse fortune. Instead of 
that he comes to me a week ago and says: ‘Eliza, discharge the 
servants, giving them a month’s pay for the lack of warning, 
and put everything in readiness to abandon the house and 
the city.’ I could scarely ask the words, ‘Am I to go too ? ’ 
when he says, so freezingly, ‘ You and Thomas will go with 
me,’ and just to think of it, not a stick or a thread of the 
treasures that make the old place so dear could I take with 
me — nothing but his clothes and linen and my own poor 
belongings. And to come to this place — Chicago — which 
I have never half heard of before, and to sneak in like thieves 
in the middle of the night, and to find everything furnished 
brand, splinter new. Why, I can’t help but feel that I am in 
somebody else’s house, where I oughtn’t to be. I can’t go 
into any room or open a closet door without fearing that 
somebody is going to step out and ask me what I’m doing 
here. And, if the trampish-looking fellows that Mr Jarvis 
has had secret dealings with back homo for some time past 


12 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


are to follow us out here, T promise no happy results of this 
crazy trip.” 

Eliza Kerwin, for such was the gloomy soliloquist, is briefly 
described as a matronly object, of kindly features, portly 
form, and certain age, as the French say, who in the course 
of years had risen from the perfunctory post of chamber- 
maid to the responsible commission of majora domo. Her 
sole characteristics are eminent aptitude for her duties and 
single devotion to the house of Jarvis. She had indeed 
been in the household eighteen years and witnessed the 
successive defeats of the Jarvis’ hopes of progeny in the loss of 
four children, and when the last bereavement came in the 
death of Mrs. Jarvis, two years before the opening of this 
narrative, old Eliza’s tears had flowed as copiously indeed 
as did those of the stricken widower, and her sorrow had 
been quite as poignant and sincere. At the death of Mrs. J ar- 
vis there remained none properly belonging to the domestic 
realm of Jarvis save the head of the house himself, old Eliza 
and Thomas Eawson, The inalienable rights of this last 
named were also founded upon a long and honorable term 
of service, and he will be introduced in his turn at once, for 
as Eliza finished her lugubrious cogitations he stepped 
upon the scene from the rear, through the kitchen door. 

“Well, Lizzie,’’ he sang out cheerily, addressing the 
housekeeper by that friendly corruption of her Christian 
name which none other presumed to use, “ I have brought 
you the chops. What do you think of our new location 
under daylight ? ” 

“ It won’t pass muster with the old home, that’s sure, and 


13 


INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 

I hope devoutly that it will not be long we stay here/’ 
replied Eliza with a flourish of emphasis. 

“Tut, tut,” he rejoined 5 “why, you haven't looked 
around you yet. Have you seen the fine park we’ve got for 
a front yard, and the handsome row of houses for neighbors, 
and the big lake like the ocean you can see from the front 
windows upstairs ? IVe been around making observations 
this last hour, and I think already that it is a toss-up for the 
difference between Chicago and Philadelphia. We might 
have done a good deal worse, Lizzie, a good deal worse.” 

“ I might have known you'd say so,” retorted the good 
woman, with some asperity. “ You’re always approving 
what the old man does. Why, I dare say that you would 
declare it all beautiful if he should move with us to the 
Fijii islands. I needn’t look to you for any consolation, and 
I tell you that I believe that you are in with Jarvis in 
schemes which ain’t any particular credit to you both. Not 
that I think any wrong, but I fear for your wits.” 

Old Thomas did not deign a reply to this direct attack, 
and answered only with a little deprecating laugh. The 
fleeting light in his eye and the nervous quaver in his laugh 
might, however, have arrested the attention of one more 
observing than Eliza. She neither saw nor seemed to hear, 
but having finished the last potato she gave them all to the 
fire, in their proper receptacle, and proceeded to the prepa- 
ration of the breakfast biscuits, which she meant' to be her 
chefs d' oeuvre* 

Still, her suspicions were not unfounded, for Thomas was ^ 
certainly admitted to confidences denied to her, and he 


14 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS 


frequently went off on the queerest and most irregular 
excursions at “ the old man’s ” bidding. 

The oven happily did not justify Eliza’s early innuendo, 
and within a few minutes the biscuits were assuming a 
uniform, tawny hue, as they ‘‘ rose ” under the heat. Noting 
this and the cracked wheat’s finished consistency, and 
observing the frittering progress of the potato chips, she 
set the broiling iron for the chops and said to Thomas: 

Go and call Mr. Jarvis to breakfast.’^ 

Thomas, in obedience to Eliza’s command, ascended the 
stairs and rapped upon the door of the room at the second 
floor front. An audible disturbance of bed clothing and a 
sharp ‘‘ What’s wanted ? ” from within gave evidence that 
the reveille was heeded. 

Breakfast is ready,” suggested Thomas as a veteran in 
service should. 

There came an answer of heed and assent in grave but 
pleasant tone. 

Henry T. Jarvis was a man in his fifties the morning of 
April — , 188 — , when he arose at Thomas^ call. He was 
born in Philadelphia, of a good colonial stock of trades- 
people. His father was rich, and as an only child his educa- 
tion and entry into practical affairs had been easy enough. 
Although he had been afforded a college course his tastes 
had led him to no intellectual specialty, and after gradua- 
tion, somewhere decently near the middle of his class, he had 
been given a junior partnership in his devoted father’s sub- 
stantial importing house. Jarvis & Son, like another ‘‘ and 
son, ” which no doubt promptly suggests itself, was lettered 


INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 


15 


on one of the large fronts on a wholesale street for a dozen 
years. At the end of this time the demise of the senior 
Jarvis dissolved the partnership, and the style of the house 
on the sign and cards, and on the note and bill heads was 
instantly changed to “ Henry T. Jarvis.” At the time of 
his father’s death J arvis was verging on forty and was the 
sole legatee. His mother had preceded his father to the 
grave so many years before, that only the faintest memory 
of her had been vouchsafed the son. The year before his 
father’s death Jarvis discreetly met a little duty that might 
have been better performed some years earlier. He 
married. This union had been eminently proper. He was 
unquestionably of sufficient age, his father’s consent had 
been given, and his selection had been made in his own 
social rank. The new Mrs. Jarvis was a gentle person of 
good breeding and fair charms, ten years her husband’s 
junior. Her amiable nature endeared her to all and she 
made a devoted and faithful wife during sixteen sad years. 
One notable event of the marriage, from our standpoint, is 
that it brought Eliza and Thomas into the household as 
servants. 

Even before his father’s death Henry Jarvis had under- 
taken those speculative enterprises which largely charac- 
terized his business affairs for some years afterward. The 
importing trade was never abandoned, but with the grow- 
ing volatility of the American tradesman he addressed his 
energies to numerous undertakings “ on the outside, ” which 
had proven uniformly successful. He dealt in wheat, 
prospected in provisions, dabbled in oil, gambled in stocks, 


16 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


and, with a view to a stable investment, seized an open 
interest in a wholesale whiskey house. This last venture 
plunged him into complicity with certain public frauds, and 
after narrowly escaping indictment he withdrew from the 
arena of speculation considerably replenished in purse, but 
rather undermined in reputation, and, the world judged, 
shattered in spirit. A distressing circumstance in his 
domestic life occurring about that time may have aided to 
induce this judgment. His Tittle son was kidnapped. 
Three of the four children which Heaven granted to his 
marital union during the first six years had died untow- 
ardly. The youngest of these, a boy — the loved and 
loving pledge of Jarvis’ perpetuity — survived, until, at the 
age of 4, one day just nine years before the opening of this 
record, he was stolen from*lhe streets near his home. The 
very earth was moved to recover him and for six months 
the press rang with the crime until it suddenly ended by 
the discovery of undeniable proofs of the child’s death 
through some misdirection of the villains’ plans. Mrs. Jarvis 
never recovered from the heart-thrust of this affliction, and 
when seven years later she died, her last sigh, breathed to 
her grief-stricken husband, was for her lost Charlie. 

Jarvis placed a strong curb upon his grief. His friends 
thought that in the anguish of his multiplied misfortunes, 
he might well have prayed for death, for upon whose altar did 
desolation ever sit more heavily ? With five such angel faces 
smiling sweet invitations to a reunion beyond the tomb, with 
naught in life save the appalling spectacle of their places 
made vacant, the justification of men, if not of God, seems 
extended to self-destruction. 






INTRODUCING A GENTLEMAN. 17 

He wept througliout the performance of the sacred rites, 
but at their conclusion wiped his eyes, resumed his business 
and continued to live without the slightest alteration of 
manner or habits. In his large and elegant home he made 
no change. Under Eliza’ s superintendency the household 
regime was sustained as before. J arvis occupied his accus- 
tomed chamber, partook of his solitary meals at his ample 
board, and went about daily affairs with a regularity of prac- 
tice which seemed to exclude from his mind all consciousness 
of the ghostly loneliness that pervaded the house and 
weighed even upon the servants 

More than a year passed under an exclusive demeanor 
that denied him personal friends, when he suddenly began 
digressions of an unparalleled character. Without unbend- 
ing his stiff exterior, he took to indulgence in nightly 
absences from home, and received, from time to time, both at 
his office and residence, the most disreputable looking men, 
to whom he granted apparently cordial greetings and long 
private audiences. One night a police raid discovered him 
in one of the low resorts of crime in a wretched quarter of 
the city. The officers, upon recognizing him, accepted some 
vague excuse and released him, but as he paid fines for the 
most notorious of the lot, and was afterwards seen at mid- 
night in their company, the suspicions of the police were 
strongly directed against him. A quiet but thorough investi- 
gation was about to be instituted against this libertine of the 
whiskey ring, when he suddenly settled his business in trust 
upon a friend and removed to Chicago. 

Such was the new occupant of 50 Rupert Square. 


CHAPTEK IL 


UNTO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE. 

Detective Department. ” Thus, in the lower corridor of 
the City Hall, reads the sign upon the door which admits 
us, not long after Mr Jarvis had dispatched the breakfast 
prepared in our presence. 

The civilian who presumes to enter this door does so but 
to encounter another through which a little wicket admits 
his voice with its burden of information, demand, or entreaty. 
He has usually lost a child or a dog, and wants the entire 
machinery of peace-maintenance stopped forthwith to 
recover the errant darling. It is needless to say the machine 
does not stop and that the wicket flies shut u23on half-com- 
pleted instructions to go to the Central Police Ofiice, two 
rooms beyond, to the right. But we will not consult the 
factotum of the wicket, nor pause before material obstruc- 
tions in invading the very holy of holies of the mysterious 
realm beyond the door. With all due deference to the 
genius of the men who compose this important department 
of the public service it must be confessed that their head- 
quarters do not in anyway contribute to the mystery with 
which the outer world surrounds them. The three large 
apartments we enter are flooded with light. No grim and 
18 







UNTO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE. 


19 


suggestive insignia of the secret service are in view, no 
souvenirs of great crimes adorn the bright oak panels of the 
walls. Not even a handcuff or a dark-lantern is left at large 
to confirm the nature of the enterprises afoot within. There 
are desks, tables, and chairs, all of white oak. The boarded 
floor is clean, and everything has a fresh, new look. Here and 
there a chart or a map is hung, and there is one bookcase. It 
is a hard matter to guess what books a detective would fancy 
or require beyond romances of his craft, but here the posi- 
tiveness of choice is put beyond question — the two hundred 
volumes in the case are city directories of the most recent date 
obtainable, from every community of importance in the Union, 
A diligent search through the desks and about corners might 
bring forth copies of the criminal code and the revised 
statutes, but the possession of even these clever texts is not 
vaunted, and the directories stand alone for the literary tastes 
of the occupants. The only item of the fittings and furni- 
ture to excite the wondering interest of the uninitiate is a 
wired and wicketed inclosure in the chamber farthest from 
the entrance. Behind this barrier sits a man whose energies 
are actively engaged in heeding the summons of a restless 
telephone, his voice and pen maintaining the while a steady 
accompaniment to the almost incessant whirr of a muffled 
annunciator. 

This is the exchange offlce of the telephone system which 
brings the thirty police stations of the city into immediate 
correspondence one with the other, and connects them with 
the central head, completing thus the equipment of an 
almost perfect constabulary. Events not yet old in memory 


20 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


demonstrate the military efficiency of this perpetually 
mobilized guard civile. Through the co-operative media of 
electric communication and rapid transit, as afforded in the 
telephone and patrol service, the exigencies of riot can be 
promptly met in Chicago with a regiment of nearly 2,000 men, 
drilled by exeperience to the most summary assertion of the 
majesty of the law. 

But battles in the Black road, massacres in the Haymarket, 
and riots on the viaduct are not now entertaining the man at 
the desk. His attention is given successively to a burglary 
on the West side, a stabbing affray on Goose island, a floating 
corpse in the river, a fatal accident at the Clybourn place rail- 
way crossing, and thus and so he runs the minor, though no 
less sickening, gamut of the city’s hourly crimes and casual- 
ties. Oh, the tidings of human suffering and grief and shame 
which his pen records as his ear hearkens ! Yet he has in 
the midst of it all the occasion to smile, and oftentimes the 
sensitive diaphram of his intrument, still tremulous with 
some shocking tragedy, is set vibrating with his jest. 

‘‘At 11:30 — Twentieth Street crossing, Illinois Central — 
girl, aged 13, beggar — cut in two, instantly killed — well, I 
should hope so — Morgue, Twenty-second Street wagon — 
Lucy — What’s that ? Oh, for heaven’s sake, spell that 
name — H-e-i-d-e-l-m-e-y-e-r — Great Scott ! what a name — 
pity they didn’t spare the girl and cut the name in two — 
parents being looked up — bye, bye. ” 

W-h-i-r-r ! He breaks the connection, files his report and 
hails the next summon in friendly fashion. 

It is evening, and as the hour approaches six the vast 


UNTO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE. 


21 


building above and about begins to respond with the 
exodus of the hundreds of employes in the municipal 
offices which honeycomb the inner structure. Then down 
the long, tiled corridor is heard the regular tread of 
the central detail — Chicago’s ‘"Broadway squad,” her 
pride of gendarmerie, picked on a scale of physical 
manliness for genteel duty, on the down-town street 
crossings — repairing now for roll-call to the muster-room 
adjoining. A moment later the wicketed door opens, admit- 
ting a wave of the noise without, and a man who strides 
rapidly into the smallest of the three rooms. This man is 
McMasters, brevet lieutenant and superintendent of the 
police secret service. He is tall, well formed and erect, 
and his face, angular and beardless save for a light 
mustache, bears the unmistakable brand of his Irish 
extraction. He was originally a patrolman, but his activi- 
ties, alertness, and perchance his discretion among those who 
control public affairs, recommended him to advancement. 
Personally, he is “ a clever party ” when well met. He 
was once the best runner, boxer, and wrestler, the smooth- 
est voice at song, and the neatest foot at a jig-step on the 
force. But the prime of life finds him too sedate for these 
pastimes. Officially, he is approachable and of fair good tem- 
per ; on familiar footing of respect with his supalterns. 
John McMasters by name, his men, as they now rapidly 
follow him alone and in couplets, hail him familiarly as 
“ John ” or “ Jack.” Seven o’clock has struck, and detectives 
are strewn over the tables, desks and chairs, chatting ani- 
matedly with each other. The all- wise board of alderman 


22 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

has appropriated for thirty men for this service, but the 
number is not sufficient. The deficiency is supplied with 
policeman selected from the ranks and sent forth in citizens 
clothes. These are known abroad as fly cops,’’ a palpa- 
ble derivative from the French mouchard, compounded 
with a vulgarism of the street, for “ cop ” is one of the many 
flash names of the policeman. Thus quite fifty men are 
present. 

McMasters himself was the witty lieutenant who, on a 
day of riot, finding himself at the head of a company, 
rallied from different precincts, met the observation : 

They are mixed ” with the retort, ‘‘ Of course — they 
are all Micks. 

McMasters could have similarly characterized his detective 
force, for after the Irish and Irish-Americans were counted 
out there was room for but a very few of other lineage. 
They were all men of good physique and of talents doubtless 
equal to what they were paid for, beyond which comment 
need not go. 

Such are Chicago’s pathfinders of crime; not a single 
Vidocq among them, for no “ wiry little fellow with a lynx 
eye ” could tip the beam and scratch the height requisite 
for a policeman. Moreover, they do not call themselves 
detectives. With theii; multifarious duties, from chasing 
juvenile thieves to apprehending the authors of mysterious, 
high crimes, they are “police officers in plainclothes.” The 
word ‘^detective” (outside the newspapers, where they gen- 
uinely love to see it coupled with their names) is an epithet, 
and they chaff each other with it. 


UNTO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE. 


23 


McMasters is occupied for a quarter of an hour in the 
inspection of the mail and such reports as the officers have 
returned from their day’s work. A packet of letters addressed 
to the chief, and forwarded by him to this department, con- 
titutes the greater portion of the mails. Some are missives 
of importance, tending to practical results, but a large per- 
centage is of the screeds of complainants, and the fancies 
of morbid folk. The letters are rapidly assorted, the 
selections for preservation and the outcasts unto immediate 
destruction, each aggregating to its class a respectable pile. 
The reports are swiftly scanned, and pencil and mental notes 
are made for the future guidance of the enterprises vari- 
ously detailed. This done, McMasters steps into a doorway 
communicating with the larger apartment where the men 
are congregated. With the roll book in his hand he reads 
the roster, to which each, as his name is reached, returns the 
conventional present ! or “ here, sir ! ” in revelation of his 
presence. The names are called in couplets as the men work 
in pairs. Every officer has his “ partner ” and is seldom sep- 
arated from him by a different commission. This condition 
of affairs is rather inimical to opportunities for the solitary 
exploits of which detective tales relate, but it is found to be 
quite essential to the success of the great art of thief-catching. 

“ Kinnane and Moore. ” 

Of the two men, who answered in concert to these names, 
the first sat against a remote window reading an evening 
newspaper by the gradually failing light. From the moment 
he entered he had taken no part in the rough gossip and 
tainted persiflage which engaged the others. Physically he 


24 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


was commonplace almost to insignificance. A hair under 
the regulation height, his broad shoulders and deep chest, 
together with a short, thick neck and slight stooj) in car- 
riage gave him a squat figure. His square head had but few 
gray-brown locks floating about its crown, and , his thick^ 
sandy-white mustache was cropped like a brush across the 
lips. Small, gray eyes and hard, smooth-shaven jaws com- 
pleted Jimmy Kinnade’s physique. He wore a dingy brown 
suit of tweed and a slouch hat. That he was an Irishman 
was in no way disguised. His face stood as an open revela- 
tion from Erin, and the Milesian clung to his few words with 
unconquerable distinctness. Totally uneducated, he had 
advanced solely through stern devotion to duty during 
years in the police service. He was of a peculiarly earnest 
reserve, almost churlish, a trait that in his sphere doubtless 
helped him, as does dignity in higher callings, to sustain the 
reputation his genuine efficiency earned. His execution of 
the law was always vigorous, at times exceeding require- 
ments. He had beyond doubt a good deal of the ruffian 
under repression within him. 

The same features of character which made him the bit- 
ter opponent of malfeasance and the fierce and inveterate 
enemy of the law-breaker would probably have made him 
a votary to lawlessness and a first-rate rough, had he not 
early in life taken up the cause of public peace and good order 
as a means of livelihood. A resident of Chicago from his 
youth, his acquaintance commanded a limitless range. He 
knew every bad character by name, face, haunts and habits. 
Gifted with a native perspicacity, which outweighs all edu- 


UNTO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE. 


25 


cation, adroit, relentless and brave, he was by many 
accorded the guerdon of first place in that arena of sharp 
competition and partisan prejudice, the police force. Yet 
inspect him closely, call out his brief vocabulary in the utter- 
ance of any thought, and even in the face of his best 
achievements he proved a very common sort of man. 

His partner, Ed Moore, was a stout, courageous, bright- 
witted young man, giving every promise of future distinction 
in his profession, and altogether a satisfactory coadjutor to 
the elder man. 

The two had been engaged upon a routine matter which 
would occupy them a few days longer without develop- 
ments or further instructions, and a brief colloquy with 
their superior ended the business. Those who had 
completed their work of the day, and the others who 
entered upon their duties of the night, were rapidly filing 
out when the roll was finished, and Kinnane, of the first 
class, was joining the general exit when McMasters detained 
him. 

‘‘Come back a moment, Jim. Eve forgotten a little mat- 
ter which, although of no great consequence, is worth a 
slight looking up Take this letter and carry it around for 
ten days. If you can’t do anything with it by that time 
bring it back. It doesn’t amount to much anyway, for if 
the party is bad we’ll have him for ‘ the overt act ’ soon 
enough.” 

The lieutenant laughed lightly as he spoke and handed a 
letter from the day’s mail to Kinnane, who at once unfolded 
ana read it: 


26 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


“ Pbiladalphia, Pa., April — , Chief of Police, Chicago : 
Henry T. Jarvis, suspicious character, left this city a week ago 
and is thought to be located in Chicago. He is wanted for 
no known crime^ but is suspected of being the head of burglar 
operations executed by others and will bear watching. He 
is five feet eleven inches in height, about fifty years of age, 
dark complexion, with short, gray hair and small side whis- 
kers of the same color. He wears no other beard, but is a fine 
looking man of the sporting-parson style. He always dress- 
es well bui not flashy. He was at one time a respectable 
business man here and still pretends to do the legitimate in 
commissions. He is believed to be rich, but has his means 
so placed that his financial status cannot be learned. He 
has no aliases, but is known among the crooks with whom he 
associates here as * The Mysterious.’ I make these details 
particularly clear because he has aroused my interest and 
if he stops in Chicago I want to hear from him. Besides it 
will be to your advantage to get ‘ acquainted ’ with him, 
and I promise that jon will win a great prize if you can 
capture the gentleman, in flagrante, etc., a thing at Avhich 
he has baffled us after an active career of almost a year. 

Very trulj", 

‘ ‘ Chief Philadelphia Police. ” 

Well, what do you think of the Mysterious Mr. Jarvis ? ” 
laughed McMasters, as Kinnane finished the letter. ‘‘ The 
Phillies are evidently anxious about him. But he won’t 
play with us long if he begins his ‘ operations ’ hereabouts, 
eh Jim ? At all events if you see him pinch him and bring 
him in so we can see who he is and give hiiR ■W9*rning.” 


CHAPTER ni. 


THE TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCE. 

A month had added its thirty days to the accumulative 
calendar of the past. Four weeks of rain and sleet and fit- 
ful snow and infiuenza had brought the Winter to an end and 
it was now Summer, so to remain until October’s first frosty 
touch again set Winter’s seal; for as the equatorial day is 
shorn of twilight, so is the Chicago year peculiarly exempt 
from those neutral seasons the world terms spring and 
autumn. Winter clings to the city with a pertinacity which 
seemingly serves only to accelerate its flight, when it at last 
relaxes and summer offers its fervid favors with a con- 
stancy broken only by its rude and abrupt withdrawal. 
This meteorological freak is not to be observed elsewhere 
and it would appear that Chicago’s unique location at the 
foot of a great inland sea puts it in isothermal relations with 
ho place on earth. 

It was noon, and the warm sun in Rupert square accented 
all the beauties to be found ’there. The trees pulsated with 
brimming sap and, moved to encouraged life, eagerly put 
forth their leaves. The process of foliation so long delayed 
was now dispatched with apparent h^ste, and even as you 

27 






28 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

looked almost, the bursting buds leafed out entire. The 
sweet locusts of the little wood dropped their spiced and 
sugared blossoms as oblations to the genial season. The trel- 
lised honey-suckles gave their incensed sirups to the bees. 
The lilac bushes upheld their royal clusters, now in full glory, 
and touched the passing breaths of air with delicate per- 
fume. The potted exotics, issuing from their long hiberna- 
tion, brewed their rich smells among the bedded plats. The 
gardens of the Alcasar, the parks of oriental legend, the 
Elysees of modern art never exhaled a more ambrosial 
atmosphere. Peace reigned. The scarcely sensible stir of 
nature — the hum of insects and the subdued flight and 
voice of birds — was broken only by muffled laughter and 
pleasant discourse floating through open casements from 
the dining-rooms of the square. 

It was because Mr. Jarvis, according to his custom, dined 
late upon a tardy breakfast, that he was not at dinner. It 
was because he was in a thoughtful mood that he threw him- 
self into a cushioned chair at his open parlor window and 
took grateful regalement from the balm and perfume of the 
air. It was because Thomas enjoyed in his old bones la 
dolce far niente as never a man did more that he sat at the front 
basement door beneath the parlor window, drawing at an 
ancient, and to all others offensive, pipe. It is safe to say 
that neither Mr. Jarvis nor Thomas looked upon the 
moment as the eve of a crisis in his life. Such it was, notwith- 
standing, and even then they heard the fateful herald. It 
was a whistle ; not the call of a bird, for it carried the air 
of a street ballad with a reckless disregard of measure and 


THE TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCE. 


29 


counterpoint a bird trained to tune, if that were possible, 
would despise. The music entered at the north gate and pro- 
ceeded along the semi-circular pavement, and could have been 
traced to the puckered lips of a ragged boy who, not a whit 
impressed by the outrage of his intrusion, was wantonly 
taking in ” the square on his way southward. His hands 
were in his pockets, his head in the air, and he whistled 
amain. He had wellnigh carried his disorder to the further 
end without plundering the shrubbery or other vandalism, 
and it seemed that he was about to leave the square without 
mischief. At that moment a troop of sparrows dropped to 
the ground in front of No. 50. They were the common, 
dust-brown creatures of the streets and roofs. The boy saw 
them and checked his whistle. His eye kindled with a sud- 
den purpose and he drew from his tattered coat-pocket a 
stone. He half crouched and advanced on tip-toe, drawing 
back his right arm. The flock fled in sudden alarm, leaving 
one of its number, which hopped upon the curbing, and 
chirped, twittered, and danced as though inviting danger. 
The crouching figure advanced yet a few stealthy paces and 
suddenly launched forward its arm. The wily bird rose to 
swift flight even at the inception of this movement. It had 
its cunning part in the play, but had misjudged the boy’s 
skill and trajectory foresight, for the stone struck it fairly 
in the breast two feet above the ground. The poor stricken"* 
thing fell headlong, fluttered an instant on the graveled 
drive, and died. 

‘'Hi, yi. I’ve got ye,” cried the boy in glee as he galloped 
forward and lifted the little corpse in his hand. 




^ ■ 




30 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

His exultation scarce survived liis shout, for at the 
moment a heavy hand struck him with swinging force and 
sent him heels over head into the street. It was Thomas, 
indignantly aroused to vengeance. 

Here was another miscalculation. The good old servant 
had thought that the urchin would take the admonition in 
haste away to digest in penance and seclusion. The boy 
was of different stuff, and evinced it as he rose from the 
ground. There was no betrayal of pain or dismay ^ his 
face was white and his eyes flashed fire. He had another 
stone in his pocket and he poised on his toe and hurled it 
desperately at Thomas. The servant dodged and half 
presented his broad back. The missile struck the solid 
flesh over Thomas’ spine and bounded thence through the 
open window, falling at Mr. Jarvis’ feet. 

The boy cast about him for another weapon and finding 
none, nevertheless, firmly planted his feet and sent back a 
challenge in words that quivered with fearless anger. 

Touch me again and I’ll kill you. I’ll cut you into 
shoe-strings and shoot you full of holes,” and the boy 
continued with such profanity of objurgative and filth of 
epithet that the record of his remarks is impracticable. 

Thomas w^as unacquainted with the reckless courage of 
the street Arab, but he was aroused to a pitch be^^ond 
restraint, and rushing upon the boy struck him a crushing 
blow in the face. The boy fell as a matter of course — fell 
as though he had been shot. In falling his head struck the 
curb-stone violently and he lay very still in the gutter. 

Of all untoward happenings, a policeman passing on the 




THE TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCE. 


31 


main thorouglifare liad witnessed the assault and now ran 
forward. He picked the boy out of the gutter, struggling 
back to consciousness, and ordered Thomas to stand 
his ground under arrest. The boy opened his eyes, re- 
gained his wits, and seeing the officer, began to cry in com- 
mingled emotions of anger, pain and fear. 

Mr. Jarvis, who from an indifferent interest in the pro- 
ceedings, had been keenly aroused to the situation, came 
forth. 

“If you please, officer,’’ said he gravely, “ this man is my 
servant, and the boy was abusing him outrageously and 
killing birds in the street.” 

“ Can’t help that, sir ; I didn’t see the boy doing anything 
and if you have any complaint you can swear out a war- 
rant. But I did see your man here hit the boy, and he’s 
my prisoner. 

It was but a short walk to the district police station, and 
the officer not only spared Thomas the ignominy of a drive 
in the patrol wagon, but strolled along before his prisoner 
and Mr. Jarvis as though he held no custody. At the sta- 
tion Mr. Jarvis deposited the cash, which was taken as a 
special bail bond for Thomas’ appearance in the court on the 
morrow, and master and servant walked home together. 

“ This is a very annoying scrape your hot temper has 
gotten you into, ” remarked Mr. Jarvis, with asperity ; but 
Thomas was too dazed and dejected at the sudden and 
surprising turn of affairs to reply. 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN VULGARIA. 

There is a quarter in Chicago called The Levee, ” but 
why so called none can tell. Desj)ite many jdausible 
attempts to account for it, the origin of the name has i:)er- 
ished from municipal archives. It was j)robably burned in 
the great fire which destroyed so much ancient history. 

The Levee is contiguous to no shipping, and although it 
lies between the river and the ^lake its limits cease far 
within those natural boundaries. So, with the history lost 
and a reason unapparent, ycnir philological research might as 
well bo abandoned and the title of “ The Levee” admitted 
without further question. 

It is a son y show. ' ' is Levee, ” for good and pious peo- 
ple, and a poor : s. : t Ic as well for the worst of us. Squarely 
in the heart o ' I . jwn, itis traversed by two wide business 
thoroughfares that abruptly alter aspect as the}" enter its con- 
fi lies. Stately edifices of trade drop off at a corner, and cross- 
ing the street you are ‘‘on the Levee” without w^arning of it 
unless you know the landmarks. And was ever a topogra- 
phy to be iixed in mind by such shabby landmarks. A 
double tile of ill-assorted, dirty, decrepit, and ramshackle 
32 


IN VULGARIA. 


33 


structures, all shops below and tenements above, guard the 
way. The quarter is populous, there is no doubt, for such 
a dense array of mercenary enterprises is sheltered nowhere 
else. Saloons (yes, saloons— barrel houses, gin mills, rum 
holes, doggeries and dead-falls of every bad character. 70 
per cent, of the business is in grog and the namelesses that 
pertain to the traffic), pawnshops^ — fences ! — and what rare 
and varied storages of plunder, Chinese laundries (defiled 
raiment, opium and outlandish gaming), theatres (unblush- 
ing obscenity, disgusting sentimentality, brutal athletics, 
uproar, and stench). Yet after all this is but a virtuous 
mask for that which is in the garrets above, the sheds 
behind, and the cellars below. 

At the time of which our story deals there was a saloon 
and eating-house among these rookeries, owned and con- 
ducted by a certain Jack Larue. The place is existent at 
this day, and has so many familiar counterparts that these 
descriptive lines could be spared. It was a rather more pre- 
tentious resort than the average of its neighbors, as the floor 
was swept and sanded, the bar was somewhat ornate, and 
Jack and his help kept clean. The prices, too, for lunch and 
drink were a notch higher, and the patrons were the more 
prosperous of the traffickers in shame or crime, from which 
all custom was drawn thereabouts. Nor did the veteran 
‘sots congregate there as elsewhere in the neighborhood, 
for Jack’s whiskey sold for 10 cents, and he had a famous 
grip on tattered raiment and a memorable dismissal for his' 
penniless customers. The bar was of imitation rosewood 
and the mirror was nearly six feet square with a dizzy quan- 





34 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

tity of fancy carving and tinsel garniture all over and 
around. On the back bar were ranged Jack’s exhibition 
stock of glasses, French-cut bottles, containing the full line 
of liqueurs and cordials from absinthe and vermuth to 
r chartreuse and curacoa (which gave great effect, but met 

few calls), and a big pearl-handled, blued-steel, cannon-cali- 
^ bred, Colt’s navy revolver, which was meant for a standing 

menace against “ nonsense ” 

Opposite the bar and ranged along the right wall (as one 
> faces the interior from the street) was a row of lunch-tables. 

Those who have never tasted indigency and foraged in a 
' city for cheap fare have never seen the like of those tables 

■ and their accompanying service. The square deal boards, 

made for the crowded accommodation of four persons 
were spread with a mottled oil-cloth drawn tight over the 
^ edges, and securely cleated underneath. A pewter caster, 

with cruets of chemically pure acetic acid, coarse pep- 
per, feeble mustard, rock salt, and moulded catsup, 
r formed the condiment allotment of each. Then there 

r were the covers ” of ironstone china, the knives and forks 

of nickle-plated iron, the cups and saucers of imperishable 
|:r Wedgewood, the murky and opalescent glasses, and that 

laurel of the civilized dining-board, that rarest conceit in 
table napery, the little red napkin with fringes. There was 
I no menu but the table d’hote was bulletined over the walls 

r , 80 conspicuously that no one could mistake the contents of 

the larder, and a man could eat what was literally set before 
him in vast variety. There was decorative art, too, con- 
1 " fcained in this plan, for the placards were of every hue and 


IN VULGARIA. 


35 


graceful design, calculated to lend a cheerful touch to the 
place and cover up the blemishes in the ancient walls. 

‘‘Pie, any kind, five cents a cut,” in red letters on a black 
back ground covered the aperture which formerly admitted 
a stove-pipe. 

“ Pork and beans, ten cents,” in red and white, masked 
a spot where the plaster had parted from the laths. 

The oyster list, with its wide diversity of culinary treat- 
ment, all at a modest fee, obscured a long crevice which ran 
from the ceiling half-way to the floor. 

“ Sirloin steak with potatoes, twenty cents,” done with 
artistic taste, in azure spangles on a red field, hid a furrow 
in the kalsomining which looked like the ricochet path of 
a pistol bullet. 

There were innumerable other cards, which did the 
double duty of wall paper and price-list, and one there 
also was which served for neither and yet was fully as much 
intended for the careful inspection of guests. It hung from 
the ceiling by two wires in the center of the room and 
covered in its statement the trade of both the bar and 
lunch tables. 

Stenciled on its white surface in blue ink was this insinu- 
ative rhyme : 


To 

trust is bust. 

To 

bust is bell. 

No 

trust. 

No 

bust, 

No 

bust, uo bell. 



36 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

Sympathetic relationship existed between this Runic 
legend, with its cogent reasoning, and Jack’s boot and the 
weapon behind the bar. This was well known to the 
steady patrons and no one ever overlooked it a second 
time. 

At the end of the row of half-dozen tables and open to 
view was the cuisine. The wholesome and native word 
kitchen would on the average be preferable, but bless you, 
this was no kitchen, although some show of cooking was made 
there. A counter, which followed the front and rear line of 
the room for a few feet and then turned abruptly into the 
wall, thus enclosing a gasoline range, a bank of shelves, 
and an ice box, was all there was of it. The counter and 
shelves were loaded with exhibits of comestibles ready to be 
served, and a rough-looking individual with a white cap 
manned the stove for the gratification of those fastidious 
patrons who refused to eat raw oysters or wanted something 
on the limited cooking list. Happily enoijgh for unsuspect- 
ing customers little of the bill of fare was prepared on the 
premises, and it might as well be told as a sort of confiden- 
tial disclosure, although it is unprofessional, that the bread 
and. crullers came from the baker’s, the pie from a factory 
devoted to wholesale pie production, the pork and beans 
were cooked by a little German contractor in that line, tha 
sausages similarly provided, while the coffee was boiled 
over night and drawn next day from a heated tank. 

This sort of ready-made shelf-stock lunch business was 
not a monopoly of Jack by any means, but was and is quite 
an extensive industry, although some readei's, blessed 


IN VULGARIA. 


37 


throughout their lives with custom-made meals, may know 
nothing about it. 

Directly opposite the cuisine — since that was the word 
agreed upon — were two cabinets particuliers, (If Jack had 
said nothing at this there were certainly several of his 
steady customers who would have aggressively defended the 
reputation of the stalls against such slander. But what with 
your loges, foyers, salles a manger, tables d ’ hote and the like 
in places of public resort, it is fair to parade some French 
even here.) 

The walls of these little apartments fell short of 
the ceiling and their interiors were furnished with chairs 
and tables, the latter bare for cards and drink, and covered 
for occasional meals with a cloth which was an enlarged 
copy of the famous napkins. The service, too, was a grade 
finer, and although the cutlery was not silver and the 
crockery was something other than porcelain, the tribute 
to the higher prices levied within for the same fare as was 
spread without could be distinctly recognized. 

A door in the rear communicated to a little hallway, 
from which a flight of stairs rose to the upper floors and 
another door let out on the garbage-box and the alley. 
The front of the house was all glass— door and show-win- 
dows masked from the bottom half-way up by faded and 
tattered lambrequins and plastered in every part with litho- 
graphed scenes from the numerous plays current in the 
theatres. 

Such was Jack Larue’s saloon to the eye. It is true that 
it did not show off to the advantage of the “ art galleries” 




38 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

where some people drink in other parts of town, but, good- 
ness knows, there were hundreds of worse looking places 
right in the neighborhood. The inexperienced nose might 
have detected the taint of beer-slops, mixed drinks, and 
tobacco, together with the savor of indifferent cookery, but 
as few such organs came about, the atmosphere was popu- 
larly regarded as fresh, pleasant, and salubrious. As 
everything is judged by contrast there were many people 
who looked upon Jack’s quarters as a very reputable resort. 


CHAPTEE V. 


SOME VULGAEIANS. 

If from these friendly and familiar allusions to Jack and 
Jack’s things the impression has been obtained that he 
was a good fellow in the main,” as they say of some hard 
characters who have redeeming traits, a grave error has 
been founded. 

Jack Larue was a bad man, and we might as well get to 
the fact. He was a wicked, conscienceless, crafty, daring, 
desperate villain if there ever lived one such. Had he 
been born of a long and carefully selected stock of thief 
and drab he could not possibly have had less worthy 
instincts. Had he been reared in a brothel, taught the 
antithesis of the decalogue, carefully inculcated with the 
ethics of crime, he could not have been trained a more 
accomplished criminal. Yet he had come of good family 
somewhere in an eastern state and had been given early 
advantages for choosing a station of good citizenship. 
By what perversity of inclination and fatality of influence 
he became as we find him at the age of thirty-five it is 
needless to tell. The downward paths are as numerous as 
the boasted roads to Eome, and the philosophy of man’s 

39 


40 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

fall is a subject upon wliicli we can all moralize. Jack was 
wicked beyond recall. No prayers, no -penalties, no 
influence of earth or Heaven (that Heaven cares to exercise 
in men’s affairs) could ever turn his soul from its gloomy 
journey, touch his seared and necrosed mind with a single 
ray of noble thought, or move his sullen heart to a throb of 
purer animation. To such as he there are delights which 
their fancies seek, pleasures that their passions crave and 
purposes that muster their hopes, but there is a barrier 
between their way of life and the world, for whose sins the 
atonement awaits, which neither missionaries nor the law 
can scale. 

Larue’s record was as good, or bad, as his character. 
He had twiced served terms in the state’s prison, several 
times escaped the statutory penalty of his crimes through 
the cleverness of his lawyers and the imbecility of the 
juries, and more often evaded detection, although a constant 
police suspect. 

A tall and spare figure, little less than six feet in height; 
a face pale as the dead and hard and angular as the front 
of a cliff, thin aquiline nose, lips tightly drawn over sound, 
white teeth and grown above vzith a short, black mustache ; 
eyes like spheres of jet with the glint of steel; square jaws, 
blued by the scrupulous shaving of a heavy beard; a low, 
furrowed brow; a round head covered with a thick growth 
of close-cropped raven hair; clothing of conspicuous cloth 
and cut; shirt, collars, and cuffs of colored percale; a silken 
cravat with a diamond stud, and white, skinny fingers 
hooped with gold, Such was Jack Larue in full regalia. 


SOME VULGARIANS. 


41 


the saloonist, the gambler, the burglar, and the ready 
ruffian. Quiet, grave, and elaborately formal in his con- 
duct under daily inspection — the devil in a dress suit at a 
drawing room. Mild, courteous, straightforward in glance 
and speech, liberal on befitting occasions where favors com- 
manded returns, he was genteel, believe it. But witness 
the occasions of unconstraint! See the palsied and penni- 
less wretch, too importunate in his appeals for gratis drink, 
and Jack’s sharp dismissal, too laggardly obeyed, supple- 
mented by the brutal kick. Behold the brawling insult 
met with ferocious and pitiless assault, the desperate 
emergency encountered with swift and murderous measures. 
Enter the circle of the midnight complot and observe 
Larue’s awakened faculties, his experienced counsel, his 
far-seeing strategy, and his unquestioned authority 1 Peer 
into the unhallowed chamber of his dark home life and 
contemplate that woman, whose relation in other lives is 
the retainer of joy and heart’s ease, but who is to him the 
sport of his moods 1 Such was the texture of this nature, a 
man of all too many twin brethren among the nightside 
members of this civilized generation. 

On the floor above, in the rear of the house and at the 
head of the stairway noticed through the back door, were 
Larue’s lodgings. At night or when the doors at the top and 
bottom were closed, the ascent was dark and almost peril- 
ous. The stairs were steep and old, and narrowly confined 
between the walls; there was no handrail. On occasions 
of illumination the path of groping hands could be seen 
plainly traced upon the walls, and those spots of dingy 


42 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


plaster not defiled with dirty finger-prints were found 
covered with vulgar caricatures, names, initials, and 
unseemly rhymes. The house had sheltered in its time a 
numerous tenantry, and evidently none much better than 
its j)resent inmates. A peep of light filtered under the 
door where rats had gnawed, offered a lode star for the 
benighted climber. 

The revelation was scarcely worth all the toil of ascent, 
for here was only a short, uncarpeted and ill-conditioned 
hallwa}^, running from a window on the left to a board par- 
tition a dozen feet to the right, while a door on either side 
of the passage promised means of further progress if one 
cared or dared proceed. The hallway was actually much 
longer, extending to the front, where another stairway 
dropped to the street. Along its length were rooms for 
low lodgings, but, as there were no women and children in 
the rooms, the house was quiet — suspiciously so. Larue, 
desiring closer seclusiveness, had obtained the agent's 
permission to build the wooden partition w^hich blocked 
the hall and gave him exclusive use of the rear rooms and 
the back stairs. 

The same genial noontide, whose serenity in Bupert 
Square had been disturbed by Thomas’ misadventure, 
brooded upon the Levee.” The same peace mastered 
the scene, save that the drowsy lay of birds and insects 
was supplanted by the monotonous hum of traffic not far 
distant on every hand. From the open windows of Larue’s 
apartments a brick and stone miscellany of rear elevations 
and sheds, a vista of back yards and uninviting areas, a 


SOME VULGARIANS. 


43 


panoramic succession of ash-heaps and garbage-boxes, a 
wide litter of refuse, was revealed beyond the alley. 
There were evil sm^ls, and the eye fasted amid squalor 
and neglect. Yet so quiet was the hour that the roll of 
the scavenger’s cart through the alley seemed like a rude 
irruption, and heads directing sleepy inquiries were thrust 
from windows here and there. 

But for his own uproar, the scavenger, as he drove b}^, 
might have heard from Larue’s window, just overhead, a 
sound. It would have commanded his passing attention, 
for it was an odd sound for the time and place, and although 
quite low would have been plainly audible to him. It was 
the voice of a woman crooning an air. There was no hint 
of quality in the voice nor any striking melody in the 
theme — a mere bit of new vaudeville sentimentality, done 
softly and in indifferent fashion. The suggestion of con- 
tentment, however, would have caught him. He would 
have glanced upward to see the possessor of a spirit so 
evidently at peace in this colony of troubled souls, although 
he might not have thought to analyze his own imj)ulse. 
He did not hear the strain, nor did the singer observe him, 
which was so much of experience lost to both ; for the 
scavenger at his work is an instructive object, in a way, 
and a tuneful woman always a worthy sight. 

Bess Burton, as she sat at the window and sang, was 
the sole exception to the truth of the declaration that the 
house was without a female occupant. However, as she 
was Jack Larue’s wife and part of his establishment, her 
exclusion from first consideration is in a measure pardonable. 





44 





THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

Bess Burton had little right to sing — blessed little right 
to peace of mind — as an orderly community would regard 
her. She was comely, but her beauty was so battered that 
the paints and cosmetic needed to repair it betrayed her 
on the streets. She was tall and graceful, but her carriage 
was a dash for notice. Her wardrobe was fine, too fine ; 
her hair, which nature had tinted brown, bore the evi- 
dence of tampering dyes and bleaches ; her full, blue 
eyes were in turn dull and unnaturally lustrous, as the 
order of the day went. She looked every inch what she 
was, and had better been at penance that sultry noon than 
sitting about, unkempt and slatternly, singing. Bess had 
small advantage in point of moral record and reputation 
over the man to whom she stood in a wife’s relation. She 
was an exile from her parental family. She had father, 
mother, brothers, sisters ; but in their offended sight, np 
prison was too noisome and secure, no burial-field too 
obscure and unconsecrated, for her. Why, it had been a 
notable scandal a year before, when unable to pay a heavy 
fine for a particularly flagrant disorder she had been sen- 
tenced to the bridewell, that this beautiful wanton was 
the daughter of Mr. So-and-So, the good citizen of Such- 
and-Such, not far distant. It was Jack Larue who, after 
an unexampled failure to break the judgment of the court, 
paid her fine and gave her thenceforth an abode. 

Like many such women of good origin Bess sought 
always to suppress all consideration of her situation and 
the future of a life misspent by assumed recklessness, 
sti;died avoidance of reflection, banishment of memory. 




SOME VULGARIANS. 45 

and compulsory gayety, with frequent resort to the nep- 
enthe of drink and drugs. Yet there were times like sur- 
prises, when Remorse stole in upon her consciousness, 
the gloomy curtains that flanked her path were torn aside 
and a flood of sudden light revealed her woful plight. 
Such moments brought their honest tears and genuine 
heartaches. 

From just such an emotional attack had Bess recovered 
as she sat presumptuously singing. A bit of wedding 
notice in the social column of the paper which had casually 
fallen to her hand had touched the key. The name of the 
bride or the groom — perhaps of both, had once been famil- 
iar. Being alone, she threw herself upon the bed and wept 
bitterly and long. When at last she arose she experienced 
surprise that she had not determined, as usual on such 
occasions, to flee from her tears to dissipation. A sense of 
resignation without fixed contrition, a feeling of peace 
without reform resolves, a totally inexplicable and half- 
magical spell of contentment possessed her, and giving 
tune to her thoughts she resumed the small task she had 
temporarily abandoned. She was darning a sock, part of 
the scant apparel of Jack’s boy. Jack’s son? No, 
although Jack never went to lengths to explain; in fact, 
nobody cared for the explanation — his ward. But Bess 
darning a sock ! She didn’t often do it, to be sure, but the 
damaged article in the new wash had come to. her attention, 
and she liked the boy, sympathized with his neglected con- 
dition, and there was not much else to do on such a lazy 
day. Well, she had a remnant of the good heart that was 


46 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


born in her and was the very chaplet of her charms in 
years agone. 

A quarter of an hour had passed and she was still 
stitching and singing when a scuffle of feet on the stairs, 
succeeded by the unceremonious opening of her door, 
heralded a visitor. 

It was the ward, flushed, hot, and to a degree excited. 

‘‘ Say, Bess, where’s Jack ? I can’t find him downstairs. 
But, my,” gasped the youth in a breath, ‘‘I’ve had a high 
old time. I must tell Jack. I .had a man pinched — a 
feller in a swell house, too,” and with a great sense of import- 
ance he spread out his coat skirts (sic) and capered around 
the room. “ I’m a genooine, full-blown prosucuting wit- 
ness, I am, and Bll swear him up for ten year. Got to show 
up in the armory to-morrer morn’ an’ testify. Jeemimy 
crickets, what a figger I’ll cut.” 

Bess smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm, but was actually 
aroused to little interest, as a new vagary on his part was 
a mere chapter to a tiresome story in daily instalments. 
She was content to notice that he had once more escaped 
serious casualty and the clutch of the police. The red 
and swollen cheek, in open evidence of Thomas’ lusty 
blow, amounted to little in the long list of disfigurating 
cuts and bruises the boy had brought home from time tp 
time. She merely inquired what he had done to merit 
the punishment this time. 

“Done ?” he ejaculated with great show^of ofl’ended feel- 
ing. “ I done nothin’. That’s why the collar run him 
in. He hit me for nothin’ ; jest fer luck, or fer instance, 


SOME VULGARIANS. 


47 


maybe. I don’t know. All I know is dat I was knocked 
out clean silly. Oh, you just wait till you hear the copper 
tell about it.” 

The boy proceeded at some length to narrate the inci- 
dent, putting the facts through contortions creditable to 
himself, and characterizing Thomas the while as ‘‘ a chump,” 
‘‘ a guy,” a mark,” a nine spot,” and sundry other 
weird and inscrutable beings, known only in the ethnol- 
ogy of the slums. He paused in his recital at last, upon 
noticing the woman’s occupation. 

Say, Bess,” he said, drawing closer to her and toning 
his Yoice down, '' that looks like something of mine. 
What’er yer doin’ with it ? ” 

“ I’m mending it. Can’t you see ? ” she replied laughing. 

Mendin’ it,” he echoed, now in a very low voice with a 
vague, constrained stress upon the words, as though he 
was half grasping their meaning, ‘‘Well, it needs mendin’, 
dats sure, an’ I’m awfully much obliged to you Bess. But 
you needn’t take the trouble. What do I keer for socks 
anyhow, and it’s too much trouble for you to be a-sewin’ 
an’ a-worryin aroun’ about my rags. Lor’, if yer ever got 
started you’d work out a life sentence widout gettin’ any- 
thin’ like through wid ther job.” 

The boy laughed nervously as he glanced down at his 
ragged clothing and shot a troubled look at the seamstress 
who took such practical interest in his own graceless self. 
Oh, he felt it, and his eyes blinked and danced under 
pressure of tears. 

“Bess, you’ve ben mighty good to me, you have, an’ 


48 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


if I on’y knowed how I c’u’d do somethin’ to kinder square 
up, I’d do it, but seems ter me like the best I kin do is ter 
get yer into more trouble. When yer begs fer me when 
Jack’s hammerin’ me an’ he turns around an’ thumps you, 
an’ sometimes when he beats you for nothin’, I feels horri- 
ble like, an’ whole nights I lays and cries ’cause I’m sorry 
fer yer. So bein’ as how I makes things worse sometimes 
by bein’ here, suppose I screws out. Ther’ an’t much ter 
my little old cubby-hole across the hall, nohow, an’ I kin 
shine an’ sell papers an’ live wid ther gang at Tom’s or 
the newsboys’ home. An’ I’ll drop around an’ see yer at 
times an’ kinder report to Jack. I’d like to work Jack 
up ter ther scheme. I’d go, anyhow, ’cept dat ther last 
time I rund away for more’n two days Jack was crazy mad, 
and after purty nigh chawin’ me up he swore that ther 
next time I skipped he’d send me ter ther reform school. 
I canT see what makes him so dead set on havin’ me around, 
’cause he don’t seem to be pertickerly stuck on me.” 

Bess had been thinking as the boy spoke and she 
turned to him and said : 

‘‘ Harry, do you remember your mother at all ? ” 
‘"N-o-o,”. replied the boy slowly, as though reflecting. 

Jack said one time when I ast him dat I never had none ; 
dat I wuz jest his kid and because I didn’t have no mudder 
dat was de reason I was so scan’loosly wuss dan oder kids.” 

Harry, think,” urged Bess. ‘‘ Haven’t you any memory 
of a time before you came to Jack ? ” 

‘‘ Naw, nothing sure,” said the boy. I do seem though 
sometimes when I’m layin’ in bed wakey-dreamy, dat I can 




SOME VULGARIANS. 49 

remember a time, ‘ way ‘ way back, when I had little curls 
and good clean clothes and was washed and dressed and 
wasn’t allowed to hustle in the dirt and fight and steal, dat 
I had plenty uv good things to eat and a white, soft bed 
o’nights and dat dere was a man — a real gentleman, a 
sure enough fadder who was hones’ and handsome. And 
dat dere wuz a lady — a good kind lady, as good to me, 
Bess, as you — but, oh, Bess, she was a genooyne lady — 
wid a lovin' face and a pretty voice and she knowed little 
rock-a-byes dat she used to sing ter me, and now in my 
little ole cubby-hole acrost de hall sometimes it seems ter 
me, when I falls asleep, dat I feels her rocking and hear 
her singing, oh, so sweet and soft, and de bed grows white 
wid little flimsy curtains like in de stores, and my hair 
twists and draws out into little curls and my face is clean 
and de good lady stoops over and kisses me and smiles, and 
I rocks, rocks, rocks, to de little tune till dat’s all and. I’m 
asleep.” 

Bess folded him in her arms. 

But dat’s jest a dream like I guess every feller has,” 
Hackles said, ‘‘ and after all I never had nobody half so 
good to me as you, Bess.” 

She drew him close to her and kissed him. 

In the moment of that act, shadows blacker than night 
were lifted from the despised woman’s soul and the heart 
of the nameless orphan swelled with a joy it never knew 
before. 

Instantly the spell was broken, for a heavy tread at the 
threshold announced the advent of the lord and master, 


50 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


and such scenes were known to be at variance with his tastes. 
He entered as Bess relinquished her embrace. 

‘‘Well, I’ll swear this is great,” ejaculated Larue, “a 
weeping love feast. What are you doing up here, you 
monkey-faced little devil ? ” 

The boy gulped and gasped through a brief statement of 
the incident in Rupert Spuare. 

“ W ell, that’s cute, I must say. I’ll go u]3 with you in the 
morning. Clear out now,” and the ward’s flight was pre- 
cipitated by a threatened kick. 


CHAPTER VL 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 

Call court, Mr. Clerk,’’ puffed the judge, as he threw 
his coat and hat on a peg behind the tribunal and flung 
himself into the judgment seat. 

The clerk seized the lid of his ink-stand, and, rapping 
sharply on his desk, remarked in one short breath and with- 
out looking up: “Year he! Year he! ‘Sonorable court 
‘snowinsessh’n.” 

The honorable court then in session was the great First 
precinct police judicatory, known as “the armory,” the 
occasion being its customary morning assize. 

The room was big and black and bare, the light of day 
gaining but a dismal showing through the grimy panes of 
the several windows on one side. A huge and insecurely- 
jointed stovepipe, sustained by wires from the ceiling, 
stretched from an unsightly stove near the center to an 
aperture in the flue at a farther corner. Heavy iron stanch- 
ions supporting the uncovered trusses of the roof obstructed 
the view here and there. On the side opposite the win- 
dows, folding-doors, so blackened and disfigured that no 
trace of graining wasjeft, communicated to the muster-room ; 

61 




52 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

for the building was also a police station, with a lock-up 
in the cellar. Calculating the length of the rectangle 
described by the room, front and rear, you would say that 
you entered at one end through an alley door, and that the 
judge’s bench was at the other extremity. A hybrid and 
rickety assortment of old school-benches accommodated a 
portion of the crowd of loafers, more or less interested spec- 
tators, such as friends of the prisoners, ladies from the Society 
for the Suppressio^n of Vice, and other charitable or morbid- 
ly inclined personages — witnesses, and culprits out on bail. 
The remainder stood up in the narrow aisles and against 
the walls. The judge sat behind a desk on a raised plat- 
form, which some might call a dais. Two small railed 
inclosures before and below him constituted the dock and 
witness-box. To his right, in a penned-in area of their own, 
amid a disorder of chairs and stools, sat the motley crew 
constituting the bar ” of the honorable court. On his left 
hand and within reach his clerk was mounted. Behind this 
scribbling expert in fees and justice-shop jugglery were 
grouped the policemen waiting to prosecute their arrest of 
the previous day and night. Beyond them and let into the 
rear wall was a small door. It led to the prisoners’ waiting- 
room, anciently known as the bull pen,” whither, up a sub- 
terranean stairway, the offenders were driven from the keeps 
below, and where they abided, in a miserable throng of all 
grades and sexes, the fates in store. At the court’s very 
elbows, on either side, were two young men whose freedom of 
manner would have excited the very natural belief that 
they were associate justices. They were actually newspaper 




EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 53 

reporters, wlio liberally acted upon their privilege to rum- 
age the documents at first-hand, throw quips and jest 
at the officers, and whisper into the judge’s ear wholly 
inadmissible evidence for or against the defendants as their 
sentiments ran. 

The magistrate himself was a bald, white-mustached, 
wiry little man, whose fame rested better on political organ- 
ization than jurisprudence. Of fairly kind heart among his 
friends, some misconception of duty, together with long 
experience, had conspired to make him a very model of 
magisterial severity. 

‘‘Great Scoot! Two hundred cases?’’ he exclaimed. 
“I’ve got an appointment at noon. Rush it through. 
Call the first case. ” . 

It was then 9 o’clock. Three hours given to dispose of 
two hundred criminal cases. 

“ Mary Kilday — Officer Simmons,” called the clerk. 

The door of the pen opened, Officer Simmons vanished 
through it, and an instant later emerged dragging the 
whimpering and ragged wreck of a woman. He hauled her 
into the dock and held her in a half- standing posture against 
the rail. A light laugh went the rounds as the familiar 
figure was recognized. 

“ Officer be sworn ” commanded the judge. 

The policeman raised his disengaged arm and sub- 
scribed with a nod to the court’s swift utterance — “ D’you 
sol’mly swear th’ evidence y’give in this case’ll be the truth, 
the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth, s’help you 
God 1 ” — with a round emphasis on the invocation. “ State 
your case officer.” 


54 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


At 11 o’clock last night I met this woman roaming about 
drunk on Van Buren street near the depot. She swore at 
me and wouldn’t go home, so I brought her in. She is an 
old-timer.” 

‘‘ Oh heaven help ye, officer, how can ye say that ? ” cried 
the old woman, lifting her rum-ruined countenance and 
whining through her tears with the most lugubrious effect. 

I didn’t say a word to him yer honor. 

‘‘ Didn’t I fine you twenty-five dollars at your last appear- 
ance some time ago?” demanded the judge. 

“ You did, yer honor, and I was just after servin’ me 
time yisterday, an’ the first minute I shows meself on the 
streets the officer arrested me, an’, oh yer honor, let me off 
this once an’ heaven’s blessin’s — ” 

I guess not ; you’re a public nuisance,” interrupted the 
judge. I ’ll make it fifty dollars this time and see if that 
will do any good. Take her away. Next! ” 

‘‘ Hold on ! stop, stop right here. Who’s smoking that 
onion ? ” he cried, looking up and sniffing the air. 

There was an instant stir throughout the chamber, and 
twenty policemen leaped forward to scrutinize the crowd. 
A little thread of blue smoke ascending from a group in 
the rear betrayed the culprit, a shabby youth with a cigar- 
ette, and the next moment he was dragged, pale and trem- 
bling, to the bar. 

‘'Don’t you know better than to 'smoke in court?” roared 
his honor, with an intimidating scowl at the wretched 
offender, who was too thoroughly upset to reply. " I’ll fine 
you ^ve dollars — part for contempt and part for bad judg- 
ment of tobacco.” 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 


55 


The smoker was whirled out of the dock, and a great 
laugh went up, which a police lieutenant suppressed with 
a censorious “ Silence in court,” while the judge chuckled 
and dug the reporters in the ribs. 

“ Hurry up ; I'm squandering precious time,” he urged, 
straightening his features, and addressing his clerk. 

Joseph Mack, Henry Tethers, and Luke Blyth — Nathan 
Finkelstein and Officer Carmore,” called the clerk. 

Three small boys, defiant and grinning, had snatched 
some shoes and hats from the front of Mr. Finkelstein's 
emporium, and — Two hundred dollars to the Criminal 
Court,” ordered the judge. 

A ridiculous law limiting the jurisdiction of justices 
necessitated the expense and tedium of a formal indict- 
ment and a detention of the boys in a notoriously oyer- 
crowded and demoralizing jail before they could be pun- 
ished” for their small offense. 

Eoger O^Day — Officer Mehaffy 

A rough-looking young man appeared, making an effort 
to swagger despite the swift propulsion given him by the 
officer. 

“ You’re charged with vagrancy. Guilty or not guilty ? ” 
said the judge. 

‘‘ Not guilty,” muttered the defendant, glowering at the 
policeman. 

Endade he’s not,” put in an old woman, with a shawl 
over her head, stepping into the dock. 

‘‘Shut up and stand back,” ordered the officer, shoving 
the woman, holding his prisoner, and taking the oath in 
one sweeping performance. 


56 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


This Eoger O’Day is the worst young rascal in the 
Third ward. He don’t work and spends all his time around 
corners shooting the can.” 

“ Hold on ! What do you mean by shooting the can ?” 
interrupted the court. 

Why, rushing the growler, of course,” retorted the 
officer, looking up reproachfully. 

‘‘ What ? ” And the judge’s voice rang high. 

I mean sending the bucket for beer,” said the some- 
what crestfallen officer, ‘ ‘ and making a nuisance of himself 
generally.” 

“ Well, that’s better. Be careful henceforth to confine 
your charges to the statutory provisions, and to address 
this court in straight English. I’ll fine Mr. O’Day twenty- 
five dollars, as a sort of warning. ” 

‘‘ The powers preserve us 1” ejaculated the old woman, 
who was evidently the boy’s mother ; ben’t ye goiffi to 
give me and the b’y a chance to say somethin’. He’s 
innercent, yer worship. He’s a hard-working b’y. It’s the 
p’liceman that’s got a spite aghn the lad. 

Some commotion and a trifling delay was created by the 
forcible removal of this obstreperous lady. As she was 
lugged off struggling, she shrieked, shaking her fist at the 
prosecuting officer : “ Oi’ll git even wid ye for this day’s 

work, Micky Mehaffy. Ye jist wait till ye git a night beat 
in our patch.” 

Wing Lee, Ah Sam, Sing Foo, and about fifteen more 
like that,” laughed the clerk, reading from the docket. 

The door of the pen was thrown wide open and a score 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 


57 


of Chinamen were dragged, pushed and hustled out, and 
herded in front of the tribunal. The ii^orming officer told 
how he had raided them out of a basement resort on the 
Levee ’’ the night before. They were playing some inscruta- 
ble game. 

I want to say, yer honor,*' spoke up one of the lawyers 
who had been retained for the defense through some mys- 
terious agency, that yesterday ' was a kind of holiday 
among the Chinese, and last night these boys (those familiar 
with the Chinese always term them boys) met in Wing Lee^s 
Laundry for a social time. " 

“ A social time is no excuse for gambling. Here are the 
dice and chips, and the officers heard the ehink of coin, 
although the scamps managed to hide their money. That's 
enough, and I fine them five dollars each." 

The Chinamen met the assessment and filed out. 

Stanislaus Kszwitzki'^ was written on the sheet, but the 
clerk shied it and said: “Officer Matzki, bring in your 
prisoner," 

This Polish officer had his compatriot booked for drunk 
and disorderly, and pompously conducted him into the 
dock. 

The judge sputtered over the name, and then smiled 
savagely at the prisoner. 

“ Dees man war droonk," explained the officer, “ las’ night, 
and when I iole him go home he called me de lost soul of a 
dead pig and de hide of a skinned mule. It’s mooch shorter 
in Polsk, but it mean de same and is very bad name." 

The crowd wanted to laugh again, but vigorous rappinga 


58 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

from half a dozen quarters abated the merriment. The 
miserable culprit stared vacantly at the judge, and when 
asked what he had to say, shook his head hopelessly. 

‘‘Ill fine you ten dollars and hope youll understand 
that,” snapped the court. 

The prisoner brightened up, and, pointing toward the 
muster-room, where the desk sergeant had relieved him of 
his belongings the night before, said pleadingly, “Me six 
dols. Please.” 

“ No, sir ; not by a long shot,” retorted his honor. “ Six 
dollars ain’t enough. A man with a name like yours ought 
to be fined ten dollars.” 

For the law that licenses drunkenness at the rate of ten 
dollars and imprisons men who cannot pay the tax the 
judge is not responsible, but his remarks in this case were 
brutal and scandalous, you might say. But just such inci- 
dents are characteristic features of these lawful morning 
proceedings the long year round. 

The mill ground on. High crimes, low crimes, misde- 
meanors, and violations of every imaginable statute and 
ordinance were passed upon in bewildering succession. 
Thefts, debauches, domestic rows, and neighborhood 
quarrels, acutely pathetic and immensely funny, came up 
for adjudication, and few were the acquittals on any ground. 

It may be of interest to contribute the fact here that (by 
actual observations made through a period of some years) 
there was an average of one case out of every seven 
brought to trial in which liquor was not directly concerned. 

In almost all the crimes against person the offenders 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 


59 

were under the influence of liquor, while of the thefts the 
culprits were often drunk and were always men of drinking 
habits, for if there be a tramp, a thief, a house-breaker, or - 
assassin who is not a drinker of strong drink, he is but the 
exception that confirms a very positive rule 

There are those interested in saying that the saloons of 
Chicago (where the excise tax and the fines from the police 
courts are converted to the school fund) support the public 
schools. Granted, but one hundred times the amount 
needed each year in the schools is spent in the direct pur- 
chase and sale of liquor within the cit}’- and — what is it 
that trebles the police, judiciary, penal, and asylum sys- 
tems? But here we are arguing to the jury with the 
evidence not half in. 

Fines and imprisonment, commitments to the higher 
court, orders to leave town within twenty-four hours came 
so thick and fast that Thomas scarcely recognized his'own 
name when it was called. From his seat near the front he 
had regarded the swift proceedings in open-mouthed 
amaze, and understanding them so little that he had 
neither smiled nor felt a pang. Mr. Jarvis, at his side, too 
self-controlled for any sign of emotion, had worn a counte- 
nance unusually severe and given little apparent heed to 
surroundings as a sort of compromise with the abasement 
he suffered by being present. 

Larue and his ward, farther back in the house, had 
seen something of this before and rather enjoyed it, the 
boy lending his voice loudly to the frequent but always 
aborted laughter. 


60 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


‘‘Thomas Eawson,” shouted the clerk for the second 
time, “ Officer Scanlon.” 

Vexed at the del-ay, the policeman pounced upon Thomas, 
and jerking him to his feet, gave him a start toward the 
dock. Mr. Jarvis arose and followed slowly. Larue and 
his ward were already in the box. 

“ Hold up your hands, all of you, and be sworn,” roared the 
judge. 

Thomas raised his left hand, which the officer instantly 
slapped down with the muttered injunction : “ Your right 

hand, you gump.” 

Thoroughly demoralized, the unfortunate Thomas obeyed 
and mumbled some incoherent reply to the oath. Stating 
his case, the officer said : “ I was passing Rupert Square, 

at the south end, yesterday noon and I saw this man hit 
this boy a very brutal and so far as I know unprovoked 
blow. The boy fell into the gutter, and when I picked him 
up he was insensible. I arrested the man and he gave 
bonds right away.” 

“What’s your name, boy?” queried the judge, turn- 
ing to the ward. 

“ Harry’^ — and, as the boy hesitated, his guardian 
prompted: “Larue.” 

“ Yes, Harrj^ Larue, but de boys calls me Hackles, and 
sometimes I’m called — ” 

“Never mind,” sternly interrupted the judge, just as 
Larue checked the boy with a slight kick. “ Now, what 
happened between you and this man 

“W’y I wuz cornin’ along through de square an^ he 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 


61 


stops out from a door and smashes me. I wuzn't doin’ 
nothin’.” 

With a freezing smile upon the boy’s depraved manner of 
speech, the judge directed himself to the defendant, and 
said : “Well, Thomas Bawson, what have you got to say 
to all this ?” 

“ The young villain hit me with a stone, ” muttered the 
servant, too far unmanned to summon distinct utterance. 

“ May it please the court, ” interposed Mr. Jarvis, “ I saw 
this whole affair. The r:^an is my servant, and I would like 
to testify. 

“ You may, certainly, ” replied his honor condescend- 
ingly. “Be sworn. What is your name and address ? ” 

“ Henry T. Jarvis, 50 Bupert Square. ” 

There were two men in the room who started visibly at 
this response. 

One was Larue, who leaned over his ward and gazed 
intently at the face of the new witness; the other was^Officer 
Kinnane, who, standing back among the spectators, reached 
instinctively toward his pocket, where a letter was stored, and 
made a mental registry of 50 Bupert Square. 

Mr. Jarvis, oblivious of these attentions, proceeded: “The 
boy was throwing stones in the street. My servant unad- 
visedly corrected him. The boy then struck him with a 
stone and he returned the assault with a blow. I cannot 
deprecate the affair too much, but as the officer refused to 
take cognizance of the provocation, I thought it best to 
inform the court.” 

“Very well sir,” replied the judge graciously. 


- ' ' ' 'I '■ ■ 



62 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


“ What do you say to that?’’ turning fiercely upon the 
boy. 

‘‘ Did yer hear him say dat I was peggin’ rocks? ” gasped 
Hackles with a well-afiected showing “of outraged feeling, 
W’y your honer dey ain’t a rock in the whole of Koopit 
Square. It’s as smooth as dis floor. I’ll leave it to the offi- 
cer or anybody yer wants ter send dere.” 

Larue, who was still absorbed in contemplation of Mr. 
Jarvis’ face, could not repress a faint smile at his ward’s 
ingenuity. Mr Jarvis accorded the boy a pitying glance. 
Thomas, awakened to sudden life, blurted out : Why, the 
boy had a pocketful of stones. ” 

Ha ! Ha!” intoned his honor, menacingly. ‘‘You seem 
to be a graceless little scamp, and deserved all you got. If 
the officer had done his duty he would have arrested you. 
However, I dismiss this case.” 

The litigating party rapidly cleared the way for those to 
succeed, although Thomas, relapsing into stupor, had to be 
shown the way out of the dock, a service which the officer 
performed for him with more directness than gentleness. 
Beholding his master pushing on through the crowd, the 
servant stumbled into the trail and forced his way to the 
exit. At the door, Larue, who had skirted the walls and 
gained that point first, accosted Mr. Jarvis. 

“ Excuse me,” he said hurriedly, and with an earnest- 
ness of manner at variance with his smooth style of formal 
address, “ is this Henry T. Jarvis of Philadelphia ? ” 

At the first sign of detention by Larue, Mr. J arvis had 
frowned uncompromisingly. At this direct inquiry he start- 


r 




V' - 



: ..TV' ■ 


EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. 


63 



ed to his full height, his brows gathered into knots, and his 
eyes transfixed Larue with hostile scrutiny. 

It is,” he replied curtly, the fire in his glance gleaming 
steadily. 

Then one word,” exclaimed Larue, who had bent strain- 
edly upon the reply. He leaned forward and whispered. 

The tense lines of Mr. Jarvis" countenance vanished, his 
brows relaxed, his eyes beamed with welcome surprise, and 
his lips half parted in a muscular play akin to a smile. He 
nodded acquiescingly, as Larue, breaking from his guarded 
tone, said, half aloud : Can I see you ? "" 

‘‘Then you must come to me. The police watch me too 
close to risk my going to you,"" resumed the saloonist, drop- 
ping back to a whisper with rapid utterance. “ My street 
and number are correct in the directory — John Larue — 
2 o"clock to-morrow afternoon. Take the alley door if you 
choose.” 

As others were pressing for egress, Larue said no more, 
and, not waiting for a rejoinder to his ex-parte assignation, 
he caught Hackles by the arm and hastened out and away. 
Mr. Jarvis, now thoughtful-eyed, followed leisurely into the 
street, and, calling a cab, drew Thomas therein and was 
whipped for home. 

Officer Kinnane had covertly witnessed the meeting. 
Although he heard not a word of it, he drew conclusions 
and laid plans accordingly. 

“ ril see what ‘ the mysterious " Mr. Jarvis and that bird, 
Larue, lay their heads together for,"" he said to himself with 
a melancholy setting of his features. 


CHAPTEE VII. 


THE VANISHING MAN. 

Larue walked directly to his saloon and strode its full 
length, unmindful of the obsequious recognitions accorded 
him by sundry loungers at his bar and diners at his board 
who had congregated in his absence. He jerked open the 
back door, slammed it behind him, and tramped up the 
stairs. He opened and closed, as he proceeded, the two 
doors which gave access from the stairs to his room with 
such violence that a succession of reverberating jars went 
through the house. 

The assemblage at the bar grinned nervously and one 
particularly crapulous customer remarked: I wouldn’t like 
to run afoul Jack jest at this minute,” and he bundled his 
coat about him with a mock shiver. 

Above stairs Larue swept the room with an angry 
glance, and, noting its vacancy, stamped his foot, muttering, 
with an oath: She’s not here.” Further shaking his 
head in a fashion that boded no good to the absent one, he 
started to retrace his steps. The dull booming of the doors 
and the heavy tread on the stairs apprised the guests of the 
master’s return, and several df- the most timid, who cher- 
64 


The vanishing man. 


65 


ished all too vivid recollections of Jack’s thunder-gusts, 
shuffled out at the door. 

There was less of ire than of suppressed excitement — the 
excitement of great news suddenly received and clamoring 
to reach a confidant — in Jack’s emotions, for after growling 
at the bar-keeper, Where’s Bess ? ” and being told by that 
ready functionary that she had gone out in full dress an 
hour before with a promise of speedy return, he took to a 
jovial humor and petrified the “ house ” by calling it col- 
lectively to the bar. 

‘‘Come up, all you ducks,” he cried with a sweeping 
command, “ and hit the wine sack with me. All up — no fool- 
ishness. I made a ten-strike on the open board and am cele- 
brating, ” he ordered imperatively, as some of the too utterly 
surprised guests hung back staring. 

With this re-assurance the rush to the'front was general, 
and in a moment the whole crew was ranged along the bar 
in a crowded line. 

“ All shout 1 What’s your weakness? ” cried Larue. 

The bartender traveled down the line taking orders. 

“Skee.” 

“ Same here. ” 

“ Ked eye.” 

“ YaUer lick. ” 

“ Me too. ” 

“ Little soda on de side. ” 

“Joy juice and lemon.” 

As all signified “ whiskey, ” the servitor had the bottles 
and glasses produced in a trice. W ith the deft hand of a 


66 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


conjurer lie applied to the raw poison the infusion of lemon 
or bitters as required. Each party decanted his potion, 
passing the bottle to his neighbor, and in an incredibly 
brief moment all hands were served. There was an instant 
of delay for Jack, who ordered a ‘‘ schnit, and was intelli- 
gently given a small glass of beer. He felt that he had 
need of sobriety that day and so governed himself. 

‘‘Well, here's looking at you,” he said, raising his glass. 

“ Here's how ! ” the chorus toasted in return, although 
one fellow chose to vary with “many happy days, "and an 
old unseaworthy mariner huskily roared through a verse of 
a drinking song. 

The glasses went up all together and their scarifying con- 
tents vanished like a flash. A salacious clearing of throats 
and smacking of lips as the glasses came down testified to the 
gratifying emotion awakened by Jack's munificence and the 
searching beverage. 

“Well, that’s all for you snoozers. Now about two-thirds 
of you clear out. A half a dozen of you are neither pro- 
ducers or ornaments. ” 

Jack was lapsing into his wonted way. His mandate 
needed no repetition. The majority of the late revelers 
scaled themselves under the order of proscription, treating 
Jack to a parting salvo of thanks, vanished with their whis- 
kers and rags into the street. The few remaining laughed 
patronizingly at the exiles and then ordered more drinks 
among themselves. Jack glanced at his watch, and noting 
that it was 1.30 o'clock, walked to the rear and entered one 
of the stalls. 


THE VANISHING MAN. 


67 


A few minutes later a man opened the front door and, 
with his hands in his pockets, drifted leisurely forward the 
bar, appearing to scrutinize the placards and chromos on 
the walls. As his eyes traveled the circuit of the room he 
gave the bartender a sharp, inquiring glance, to which the 
latter, without seeming recognition, replied by furtively 
jerking his thumb toward the rear. The man drifted on 
even more slowly, stopping here to take in the details of 
the ever-memorable Heenan-Sayers fight, there the race 
between the Kobert E. Lee and the Natchez, and now the 
jump-start of Ten Broek and Mollie McCarty, all treasured 
to posterity in vivid prints beyond the big cooler at the end 
of the bar. At times he wheeled about and retreated a 
st^ as though to obtain a better impression of some 
"detail of the scenes, or further admire a meritorious 
feature of the artistic work. His eye, in these evolutions, 
bent a swift but no less comprehensive glance upon the 
occupants of the room, and in a moment he drifted on. 
In this wise he had traversed quite the length of the house, 
and had long since lost the attention slightly accorded 
him when he entered. He was set down without saying it 
as a ‘‘ jay ” from the back districts who had never seen a 
first-class dram-shop before. At one moment, when there 
was certainly no one regarding him, he disappeared. If 
any one in the house took later notice of his absence he 
did so with the belief that the gawking stranger had 
drifted out of the back door and tumbled into the ash-box. 

The stranger had in fact joined Larue in the farthest 
stall. 


68 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


‘'Well/’ was the saloonist’s wholly expressionless greeting. 

The man vouchsafed no recognition, but threw himself 
into a chair facing Larue across the table and glowered at 
him. 

“You seem to be in a beautiful temper, Scout,” remarked 
Larue, breaking petulantly under the man’s ugly gaze. 

“I am, by God !” exclaimed the other, starting violently 
from his seat with clenched and upraised hand, as though 
to emphasize his feeling upon the table. He desisted, 
however, at Larue’s queer smile and warning gesture 
toward the outer room, and fell back with a surly scowl. 

“ First of all I’m hungry ; give me something to eat,” he 
growled. 

Larue nodded approvingly and rapped on the table. 
The brigand disguised as a cook, who presided at the 
counter a few feet away, came to the door and took Larue^s 
order of oysters and beer. 

“ Come off,” snarled the scout, “ I don’t want no lol- 
lypops. I want a genuine feed. Make it steak, potatoes, 
a cup of coffee, and plenty of bread.” 

Larue altered the order accordingly, and the cook swag- 
gered back to his gasoline stove, adjusted its mechanism, 
while he repeated the order to himself. “To come in 
ther blood wid er Dutch fry, one an’ ther black an’ er bakery 
on ther side.” 

Bill Minton was called “The Scout” because he had 
served a term of enlistment in the regular army at a frontier 
post, and this feature of his record offered the sobriquet 
which no member of the criminal class can escape. “ The 


THE VANISHING MAN. 


69 


Scout’' was his recognized title, even in police circles, where 
he was also characterized as the ‘‘ ex-convict; ” for although 
not more than thirty years of age, Minton had done penal 
as well as military service in the time.^ He was a heavy- 
set, low-statured, hard-muscled, mean-visaged, and roughly 
clad fellow, well calculated to inspire suspicion wherever 
encountered. 

“Well, this is tough,” he muttered. 

“What are you kicking about now?” demanded Larue, 
angrily. “ Here you come along with a face like a chief 
mourner, grumbling and kicking about God knows what. 
Stop it now and come down to business.” 

“ It’s different with me than it is with you, Jack Larue,” 
rejoined the scout, quite as positively, and in tones of deep 
feeling. “ You’ve got a nice thing of it here with plenty to 
eat and a regular lodging, and can go where you like with- 
out a shadow on every step you take. Will you think a 
bit how it is with me ? Have I got any honest excuse to 
give the police for being in this town ? Do I dare come out 
on the streets at night ? Suppose I’m pinched with these 
on me ? ” and he tapped his inner coat pocket, which gave 
back a metallic rattle. “ McMasters has a half-dozen cases 
he can trump up and put on me and give me twenty years 
under the habitual act the first minute he thinks I’ve 
worn out my welcome here. All he needs is a little house- 
breaking on the North side for which he can’t find the man. 
You know just how hard it would be to prove it on to me. 
You know just how hard it was for him to convict Tally 
“the Toucher,” Jim Comisky, “ Thimblerig” Joe, and 




70 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

some others of the old gang who are doing time to-day 
for jobs they never did. That's why I’m kicking. I can’t 
stay here and I won’t. I’m going to get out the end of this 
week, if I never see another ounce of graft. Now, I came 
here at your bidding to do this job. I’ve been here three 
weeks and have done my part and am ready. I said in the 
first place, if you’d plan the act and get the third man, I’d 
have the tools and do a leading share of the hard work. 
Now, here’s the tools — where’s your plans and your third 
man? You’ve got to come to the front this week. Never 
mind your hard looks. You know you can’t bluff me, 
Jack. You’ve got to, d’ye hear ? You’ve also got to give 
me a little stuff right this minute — say a five, because I’m 
broke ; I haven’t got a sou markee, and I’ll not starve just 
to please you. 

The scout ended his long complaint abruptly, resting 
defiantly on the last^ utterance as though he expected and 
was willing to meet Jack’s violent rejoinder, Larue had 
long since leaned far back in his chair with his hands folded, 
his lip curled in a sneer, and his eyes fastened coldly upon 
the scout. He permitted a long pause to ensue and then 
said slowly, ‘‘ I’ve let you talk ; talk a long while ; 
talk like no crook, cracksman, or any living man ever 
talked to me before, but I’m not mad. You’re sore on 
account of the delay and you think it’s my fault. You 
say you’re broke, and to show you that I mean to be square 
here’s ten.” 

Larue drew a roll of bills from his pocket, singled from 
it a ten-dollar bill, and threw it across the table. 


71 




THE VANISHING MAN, 

“ But/' he resumed, now bending forward, his dark looks 
vanishing and his face assuming an expression of business- 
like earnestness, “you're wrong about me. I ain't so foot- 
loose from the police as you think, although perhaps in 
not as bad a way as you, and I have to work slow. How- 
ever, I’m ready. Tve got the plans, I’ve got several things 
needed, and I've got the third man.'^ 

“Who is he ?” eagerly inquired the scout. 

“Never mind, you’ll meet him in due time. He’s all 
right and a fellow of as much, maybe more, experience than 
’ oth of us. You’ve got the tools, eh ? You say you have, 
but have you ? Do you remeniber that you had them when 
you first came, but I showed you that they wouldn't do 
the work. Have you fixed that point? You said you could 
and if you have we’re ready for the job to-morrow night. 

“I’ve got the tools and they’ll do the work," replied the 
scout emphatically, as he produced from his coat a steel- 
worker's drill and several sharp bits. From another pocket 
he drew a piece of sheet-iron as large as a man's hand and 
an eighth of an inch thick. Both men instantly spread 
deeper caution upon their manners. Larue softly tried the 
locked door to satisfy himself of its security against intru- 
sion, cast a stealthy eye up, down and about and resumed 
his seat with injunction to his companion to speak henceforth 
in whispers. 

“ Here they are,” continued the scout, “ and Fll bet my 
head that they’ll chew through a sword blade in a minute. 
Fve tempered them three times over, in wax and quick- 
silver.” 


72 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

All right, well see, and while we see, well see to some- 
thing else,^' replied Larue. He took up the table-cloth, 
folded it into a thick, small bolt, pressed it firmly upon the 
table and laid upon it the piece of iron. He then laid his 
watch open upon the table. The scout adjusted one of 
the bits to the brace and rising to his feet set the point 
down upon the iron sheet. Jack held it firmly upon the 
cloth and, with his eye on the watch, whispered ‘‘Go.” 
The scout bore down and vigorously tnrned the little 
ratcheted wheel, which, communicating its rotations with 
multiplied speed through the cogs, set the bit to rapidly 
piercing the iron amid a generous sloughing of metal 
shavings. Suddenly he lurched slightly forward and drew 
the drill from the thoroughly perforated iron. 

That’s good,” observed Jack; “ only twenty-three 
seconds. Now, let’s see some more. Have you got a bit of 
string?'^ 

The scout had no string, but easily brought out some 
ravelings from the lining of his coat. Larue took the long- 
est thread and circled the upper-arm of the scout, marked 
its length and took its measure with a pocket foot-rule. 

“ Fifteen inches — pretty good muscle,” he said with a 
little laugh. “ Now, for the rest.” 

He measured the diameter of the hole in the iron, 
remarking : “ A third of an inch. Five-sixteenths will do, 

allowing just enough for each hole to cut into the other, 
and now let’s see.” 

With a pencil on the back of an old envelope he began to 
calculate, saying slowly as he proceeded : “ In 15 inches 


THE VANISHING MAN. 73 

there are 250 sixteenths. Five into 250 goes 50 times. 
Whew ! it'll take 50 holes to get out a piece big enough to 
get a hole with working-room for your arm or mine 
either. Now, let's see as to time. Fifty times 23 is 1,150. 
Knock off the naughts and 6 goes into 115, 19 times — 
twenty minutes. Scout ! it’ll take a good half hour to get 
through the shutters and then five minutes more to work 
the window. Does it seem long ? ” 

It ain't as short as I might want it, but it ain't a patchin' 
to the time needed to get into a good strong box. You 
remember the nine hours hard work Saturday night and 
Sunday forenoon we put in on Meyer and Linster's safe 
two years ago," replied the scout with a smile at the recol- 
• lection of that daring exploit. 

That's true enough, and counting all, the joVs a short 
one. Twenty minutes will do the rest of it. I'm going to 
stake lots on this play, and, by heaven, I'll make a haul 
worth the risks. You'll have to take your news along. 
Scout, and be fixed to meet the devil if he calls. I swear 
before God that I'll not be balked, and if I'm pinched Til 
make the case one to swing for.” 

Larue spoke in low and hurried tones, his nerves tense 
with the passion of his purpose, while he ground his fist 
down upon the table which, but for caution, he could have 
split for emphasis. The scout's eyes applauded his chief's 
resolution, and he said cheerfully : ‘‘Well, there's a clear 
twenty thou' in it and my share will get me out of this 
burg and keep me a good boy for quite a spell, I guess." 

A tread, the rattle of dishes, and a gentle knock without 


74 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


announced the readiness of the scout’s meal. Jack rose 
swiftly and muttered through the panel, “ yes, wait a bit,” 
leaned over the scout and whispered ‘‘to-morrow night 
goes, that’s settled. Mind you be here a little before twelve 
so that I can lock you in the saloon at closing time without 
attracting notice. All my part will be fixed and the third 
party will be here. Say no more, that’s all. Meanwhile 
lay close to cover.” 

Jack opened the door, admitted the cook, and walked 
to the front of the saloon, where for the remainder of the 
afternoon he presided in turn before and behind the bar. 

Later, he strolled back to the farthest stall. It was 
vacant and had been so for hours. The scant debris and 
the crockery service of the scout’s repast had been removed. 
The scout himself had gone. No one had seen him go. 
Jack, as he peered in, chuckled : “ Now you see it and now 

you don’t. The scout’s got that business down fine anyway.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 

As the day waned, with no return of Bess, Larue's moody 
face took on a cloud which gathered gloom with the approach 
of night. His mind left the momentous plans of the mor- 
row j he grew distraught, and too absorbed to be either sav- 
age or civil, as circumstances would have ordinarly required. 
So thoroughly were his faculties set upon one thought that 
he seemed lost to sense. He overlooked some flagrant vio- 
lations of his ordinances in the presence of moneyless gen- 
try who grouped near the bar and levied blackmail with 
famishing looks and thirsty insinuations upon the capital- 
istic customers who dropped in and out as the moments 
sped. He abstractedly returned the salutations of patrons 
whom he customarily rated as cordial acquaintances. He 
strode from the bar to the window time and again, crack- 
ing his knuckles, pulling his short mustache, and muttering 
by turns his choicest oaths. At last he walked to the door, 
threw it open, leaned against the sash, and with sullen face 
inspected the street. 

It was in the growing gloom, the inglorious sunset of the 
city. The hours of light were ending; the commercial 

75 


76 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


day was at a close, and whatever pyrotechnic glory the sun 
(or Phoebus in his shining car) was passing down the west, 
his demonstrations in the high-builded heart of the town 
were no more imposing than the snuffing of a candle. But 
where nature failed the artifice of men was triumphing, 
the public gas-lamps kindled their yellow flames; the elec- 
tric lights flashed forth in dense array along the street 
level or hung aloft, many in colored globes, from high 
walls. The converging vista could have been thought set 
and strung with variant gems. 

It was a stern scene thus gaudily lighted. With the 
end of the day’s toil all hands were making from the center 
of occupation to the remoter quarters of home — the foxes 
from their forage to their holes, the birds from the fields to 
their nests, the sons of men from the toil-rooms of day to 
the shelters of night. Past Larue the movement was south, 
all south in the crowded streets, with wagons, carts, drays, 
omnibuses— like the pictured rout of an army with cannon, 
caisson and baggage — all one way, southward. In equal 
volume, and as swiftly as on the roadway, the current poured 
down the walks on either hand. Caught momentarily at 
crossings by blockading vehicles it paused and gorged in 
impatient turbulence to rush on again with an acceleration 
of speed like a river through a bursting dam. Swirling 
about projecting signSj open cellar doors, kegs, barrels and 
posts upon the curb, surging even into the gutters, babbling 
with commingled voices as swelling rivers protest their eager 
haste to their confining banks, the tide swept on. Labor- 
ers, singly or in pairs and platoons, bent of form, rugged of 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 


77 


face, rough of dress, pipe in mouth and bucket in hand, 
trudged by as though parading national types, for all nations 
are as one in the great cosmopolis of the new world, bonded 
fraternally in toil. The men and women 6f the shops and 
desks, contrasting the grave and gay, hastened by and on. 
The factory girls — the young women of manual labor in the 
crowded packing-rooms and manufactories — flippant and 
insolent, conquering the day’s fatigue in anticipation of the 
night’s pleasures, were shouting greetings, laughing insults, 
as they passed the opened doorways. Whom else of the 
lowly in the city did not the tide comprise as it swept under 
Jack’s heedless gaze in this hour of gloaming and gas-light. 

The light of day fled measuredly the while until the night 
was on. The stars came out in the ragged rift of sky above 
the street and the moon, from somewhere in the low and 
unseen east, glanced on the chimneys and ill-assorted roofs 
with its silver sheen. Deep in the street below, where Larue 
stood and the stream coursed, the pallor of the moonlight 
and the sombreness of the night were bidden garish defi- 
ance. The shop-fronts blazed thriftily, the saloons flashed 
their, treacherous welcome and sent forth invitations in 
the strains of cracked music, while laughter and song arose. 
Then a counter-current grew upon the walks. The resorts 
were finding patronage from both directions, the toilers of 
the night were issuing to their tasks, and the way was once 
more reanimated. This strolling, shifting, merry mob, bent 
on illicit purpose, the gas-light and riotous music, made up 
the ‘‘ night side of the Levee.” 

Two hours had compassed these events and still Larue 


78 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


stood at his door. He had not once left his post, but merely 
stepping aside as custom came and went, and repelling all 
addresses from those who manifested a desire to linger in con- 
versation, he brooded with deepening gloom upon the scene. 
He was watching and waiting. To watch and wait for an 
incident or person, the coming of which or whom submits 
to long delay, is a vexation to the gentlest nature. As hope 
deferred maketh the heart sick,” so truly is the laggardness 
of one looked for a sore trial of temper. Larue, whose 
spirit was on scant acquaintance with any of the graces, was 
well on to bursting with rage. That his requirements of Bess 
should bide her wanton pleasure at any time was a blow in 
his face, an intolerable exhibition of insubordination. Now 
that he wanted her with urgency his discomfiture was galling. 
He was in a helpless fume and fret, when a small figure dart- 
ed out of the crowd in the streets and past him into the 
saloon. It was the ubiquitious and free-faring Hackles 
driven to cover by an empty stomach. The arrival of the 
boy seemed to suggest a re*eourse to Larue, for his face 
brightened and he turned within doors. Hackles dashed to 
a lunch counter and hastily ordered a meal. Jerry trans- 
lated the order in his own occult speech and tossed up the 
required viands, upon which Hackles fell ravenously. 

As Larue was turning from the door he was accosted 
from behind by a man who rapidly strode into the saloon 
and seizing him by the hand dragged him toward the bar, 
shouting cheerily : Hi, there, Jack, come have a nip.” 

The visitor was one of those customarily welcome, so 
Larue permitted himself to be hauled along. 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 


79 


. ‘‘A little bitters, please. What’s yours’ Jack. Same? 
So be it. I’ve had a smashing fine time to-day/’ the man 
remarked, turning from the bartender to Jack and rattling 
on about a gay drive on the boulevards, remarking that 
he had seen Bess driving out and enquiring who her 
gentleman escort might be. 

‘‘ I don’t know,” sternly replied Larue. 

“ Didn’t you know she was out with him ? ” queried the 
man with sudden apprehension, 

‘‘I did not/*’ was Jack’s meaning reply. 

‘‘Why, I thought you knew it. Hang me for a fool if I 
say any more. Fact is, I didn’t see her. It was somebody 
else,” and the man laughed in merry anticipation of the 
domestic row his blundering tongue had put in prospect. 

“ Gad,” he laughed to himself as he swallowed the drink, 
threw down the price, and unceremoniously rushed out, 
“ if that woman wears a broken nose or a black eye for the 
rest of the week it’s my fault. ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” (or a sound to that effect) quoth Larue, softly, 
as his witless informant vanished. He smiled. It was one 
of those smiles which conquer scruples on the eve of cruel 
measures and compassionate the victim of one’s fell designs. 
It is called a grim smile. With the man of undemonstra- 
tive temper it is the most fearsome evidence of wrath. It 
is the mask of sentiment, an ugly thing, the humorous coun- 
tenance of a skeleton belying itself. Woe betide Bess! 

Larue strolled down to where Hackles was voraciously 
feeding himself and engaging the cook in animated 
discourse. 


80 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 




‘‘ I’m goin’ to ther show at the opery-house ter night ” 
the boy was saying; ‘‘ not to ther one at ther ‘ Lympic/ but 
ter ther Chicawgo opery-house, and don’t you furgit it. 
Tve been to it wunst and it’s great, The star scuds around 
from de fust minit ter ther last — say, an’ he’s fine. Den 
dares a feller wid de rummiest old make-up you ever see. He 
does ther greatest dead-best song-and-dance act I ever seen. 
He kin rag for’ard an’ back, do a paralyzin’ wing step, 
coonjine all over de floor, an’ throw a back summerset 
ofC’n one foot. Den dere’s de scenery — it knocks every- 
thing cold. Ther’ never wuz a razzle dazzle or flim-flam 
fake to touch it. W’y de scenes jest change like in a pane- 
ramer, and houses fall to pieces and trees go streakin’ off 
inter the air, an’ der devil’s ter pay every three minit s. 
An’ den dere’s the Amazonian march — oh, hush, honey ; 
hush, man; yo’re too much for me,” and the boy laughed 
ecstatically. 

‘'Well, I wonder w’at’s der matter wid you and yer 
bummy old show,” rejoined Jerry, coldly; “I see in der 
papers dat dere’s rats on it.” 

“ Here,” interrupted Hackles, “ I’ll give you a pointer. 
Don’t you count on what no papers say of a show. When 
a real live play worth viewin’ comes to town ther papers 
all jumps on it and try to chase it out, but the people go 
all the same. Say, ef you keep tab on the papers, yer’ll find 
’em dead down on every show you like an’ taffy in’ up all 
der shows dat ’u’d give yer sharp pains. An’ say, I’ve got it 
dead straight from Binnie Travers. He works in a press 
room an’ he sez that dere ain’t more dan half w’at’s in 






DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 81 

de papers dat’s true, an’ he knows ‘cause he’s on de 
inside. ” 

Jerry had not time to respond to this arraignment of the 
press when Jack ended the whole controversy after his own 
fashion. 

“ Tut, tut, tut,” he said with the grim smile still at his 
lips and with an elaborate rest on each “tut” that brought 
the boy into terrified attention. “ There’s a woman sick in 
Milwaukee and she can’t sleep for your noise. I want you 
here at 10 o’clock to-night, and don’t you forget to remem- 
ber it.” 

Jack swung away with chilly unobservance of the dismay 
his words had wrought. The afterpiece, consisting of 
tableau, denouement, and grand finale all at once, with no 
end of tights and red fire in the performance at the Chicago 
opera-house that night began at about 10.15. Hackles’ face 
graphically betrayed his complete discomfiture, while Jerry, 
with a laugh, cut a caper and walked down his narrow 
inclosure singing sotto voce and in fiendish derision — 

“ Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, 

Tar, lar, la lar. 

How I wish I c’u’d go 
To tlier oper-a-r.^* 

Boiling with rage and disappointment, knowing that 
there was no appeal from the decree and being too robust 
to cry. Hackles slid off the stool with a scowl at the malic- 
iously delighted Jerry and, humping his shoulders, scraped 
his feet suddenly out of the saloon. 


82 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. • 


Larue had somewhat abated his vexation, and with a 
plan of redress in mind w^as turning quite complaisant 
when two men entered. He had dismissed his bar attend- 
ant for the evening, and, doffing the apron, was presiding 
behind the counter. 

The new callers were rotund, neatly attired and substan- 
tial looking men of middle age. They wore large fobs on 
expansive vests and five-carat single stones in their shirt- 
fronts. This make-up is legendary and is good enough for 
our brief uses of them. 

‘‘Why, Aid. Considine, I hope I see you,'' said Jack 
warmly, addressing the one in the lead, who was Timothy T. 
Considine, a saloonist further up the street and the repre- 
sentative in the common council of the “ Levee " ward. 

“ Jack, my boy, how are you ? " returned the alderman, 
as he cordially grasped Jack's proffered hand over the 
bar. “ Mr. Larue, I want you to know my friend. Com- 
missioner Mears. A. G. Mears of the County Board." 

“ Glad to know you, sir, glad to know you, " said Jack 
with sweepng suavity as he transferred his hand to the 
Commissioner. “Now name your pleasure, or rather let 
me do it for you. I have a little very old Hennessy I keep 
in private stock for my friends. I don't sell it at all ; 
there's no price to be put on it.” 

As he spoke he set out the glasses and fished up from the 
bottom of a cupboard in the back bar a cobwebbed and 
dusty bottle. With manifest care that these evidences of 
age should not be removed he poured out the drinks, apolo- 
gizing for this breach of tavern ethics by words to that 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 


83 


effect and an allowance so generous that both gentlemen 
protested a sufficiency before he finished serving. The 
liquor was the least poisonous of Jack’s stock and was pleas- 
ant to the vitiated taste of the trio. As Larue cleared away 
the glasses and brought sqme cigars, after asserting his 
hospitable rights to receive no recompense from the aider- 
man, he turned and said to the commissioner in an encour- 
aging tone: “ I don’t understand how it is we never met 
before, although you do live in another part of the town. 
I have often heard of youj I have long known you by repu- 
tation.” 

Considine interposed a coarse laugh. Reputation is 
good. I suppose you mean such reputation as our charm- 
ing friend the editor of the ‘ Daily Tidings’ gives him. And 
say, by-the-by, if that scribbling fellow doesn’t stop his 
howling about ‘the gang,’ ‘jobbery,’ ‘boodle,’ and the like 
of that he claims to be both in the council and board, some- 
thing will happen to him. Why he’s screeching about me 
all the time, what he calls Tim Considine and all sorts of fat 
city jobs, and I’m helpless. If I was to sue him he’d write 
lies about my family and if I was to kill him it would take 
all I’ve got to get out of it; but I’ll tell you what Jack, and 
that’s a good deal the reason we’re here to-night ; I would 
give fifty dollars as mj^ part of a purse, which will be four or 
five times that big, to have some fellow knock the eternal 
daylights out of him some night as he goes home. What I 
mean is to crack his jaw and hammer his nose and eyes into 
one without shoving him clean off the hooks, d’ye see ? Now 
you know lots of big-muscled fellows who’d do well on such 
a job, eh, old man ? ” 



84 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

‘‘ That’s right,” said Hears, as Larue turned inquiringly 
to him. I’ll chip in fifty dollars and guarantee a pot of at 
least two hundred dollars. I’d like to see the whelp in his 
grave, but its too much of a reach to put him there. How- 
ever, a good old time, six-weeks-in-tke-hospital thumping 
will do.” 

“ And there ain’t no law for the fellow that does it,” said 
Considine. 

Well, gentlemen, I’ll turn up the very party you want 
any time between now and the first of next week. Next 
Monday ? All right. I’ll have him,” said Larue. 

‘‘ I’ll lay back now and wait for the howl and you bet 
when it comes the money’ll be there,” said Considine. But 
now here’s another matter just as important. What do you 
think of capturing the Eighteenth ? ” 

“That would be a good one; it’s never been done,” 
observed Larue. 

“ True for you,” rejoined Considine, “ but we’ll do it this 
time, and you must pitch in with us. 

“ Yes, Mr. Larue,” added Mears, “ you must help us 
out.” 

“ If it’s in my line, but that’s a heavy job,” said Larue, 
shaking his head. “ That ward is silk-stocking from away 
back. ” 

“ Only by one hundred and twenty-three at the last elec- 
tion,” said Considine. “ Now Mears has got a brother-in-law 
over there, Andy Hardy, that we think can beat it.” 

“ What’s his business ? ” asked Larue. 

“ Same as yours.” 




DEEPLY CONFftDENTlAL. 


85 


‘‘ That will knock him out in that ward right on the first 
off/' urged Larue. His saloon will beat him." 

“ But he's sold out," promptly interposed Mears. 

“ Yes," said Considine, ‘‘Joe Calkey's name's oyer the 
door and has been there now three months." 

“ Silent partner ? " quered Larue. 

“The same," said Considine, with a smile. “Joe don't 
own a cent. He gefc’s a salary for his name, and that's all 
he wants, and the chance to play boss. Hardy's nominally 
cleaned out and don't come around. He's going into coal 
and wood." 

“ Then that's all right," approved Larue. “ Now what 
kin I do ? " 

“A small thing ; you can give us one hundred brave bal- 
lots," said Considine. “ I can spare that much off my score 
and I want you to get them. So you just rustle me up a 
hundred of the gentlemen on your staff, and we’ve got sixty 
days' lodgings for them on the river side of the Eigh- 
teenth.'^ 

“ Oh, I see, as the blind man said, I see clearly," laughed 
Larue. “ I’ll haul over the stock and spare a hundred. 
Write down where the lodgings are on this card.'^ 

“ That’ll fix ‘em sure," chuckled Considine, as he wrote; 
“what with a hundred more lumber shovers anddock- 
woilopers that can be spared from the seventeenth to move 
right across the branch. Hardy’ll have margin to give 
away. Won't he, commissioner 

“I think he'll pull through," laughed Mears. “AVhat 
tickles me most though, is how the silk-stockings will feel 


86 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


landed without a guess of it beforehand, if everything works 
smooth.” 

“ It's more important than that,” said Considine ; ‘‘ it’ll 
change the complexion of the ward permanently, and gentle- 
men, we’ll have something ourselves to say from there 
on the inside of things — eh ? ” 

The three laughed and took another round of drink. 

Jack’s whiskey on top of what they had taken before and 
reinforced several times subsequently by some of the same, 
was oiling the speech of the two public officers and the three 
men were holding quite a jolly session in which Larue took 
sober part. At such times even the most discreet men, 
when with friends, will take little exhilarating flights of 
indiscretion. 

Fill "em up again, old man,” shouted Considine with a 
flourish, ‘‘ and let me tell you on the quiet a good little joke 
on my friend Hears. Say, this is a good joke, one of those 
kind of jokes that our little friend, the editor, would give 
one hundred round dollars for. Well, you have seen Com- 
missioner Eberhart, the crank reformer, who came on the 
board with a great brag that he was going to knock out the 
gang and run everything in the interest of economy and 
reform. Well he’s knocked out and the big brain of my 
brother Hears produced the scheme to do it, although 
he is modest enough to deny it. Never mind nudging me, 
commissioner ; my friend Larue and I understand each other 
from away back, and you can trust him without fear. It 
was done just in this wise, by the simple twist of the wrist, — 
sort of so. Late one afternoon it was suddenly discovered 




DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 87 

that the poor-house was out of butter. Lord what excite- 
ment was kicked up, but none could be found. Now, 
Eberhart, in his commission store, over on South Water 
Street, had a big invoice of the finest gilt-edge dairy prod- 
uct, and he was shown how necessary it was that the paupers 
should get butter instantly. He agreed to break the rules 
just this once and send out his stuff. As soon as it got there 
everything was fixed for it — the butter was cleaned out of 
the firkins and a lot of the fiimsiest old butterine put in its 
place. Of course there was considerable surprise when the 
spurious butter was discovered, but Eberhart was given a 
chance to fix things and the matter was all hushed up. 
What’s the result ? Well, the result is that every time 
since then that the great reformer gets in board meeting 
the word ^ oleomargarine ’ is whispered and he shuts up 
like a clam.” 

Larue laughed vacuously, in an effort to show some 
appreciation of an enterprise which he actually considered 
a poor trick by the side of some of his performances at law- 
breaking. Hears appeared to be good-naturedly bored and 
was evidently prepared to get back at Considine, for he 
spoke up abruptly as the alderman finished. 

“ Well, that’s a horse on me. but since you’re telling tales 
on the board, let me give you one in equal confidence on the 
council. You remember the Metro politian street-railway 
franchise ordinance that went through last month, Well, 
a certain alderman not a thousand miles from where we 
stand, as well as a number of others besides, got a cool ten 
thousand in the Company Bonds. Our alderman didn’t 


88 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


want to keep liis, but was willing to let them go at seventy 
cents spot cash. How does he work it without showing his 
hand ? In the first place the shares were one hundred dol- 
lars each, and were issued in blank to Ben McDougal, who, 
as our little friend the editor says, ‘ runs the joint machines 
of Cook County and the city of Chicago.’ Ben indorses 
them all and gives them out. Our alderman takes his one 
hundred shares and, through a party that does such work, 
gets them off at seventy cents. The party just marks the 
purchaser’- name over Ben’s standing indorsement and the 
transfer is made. Saving a little commission to the broker, 
the alderman pockets his earnings, and the only man on top of 
God’s earth who can give positive testimony to show up the 
trade is Ben McDougal, and he don’t dare to. Not for a min- 
ute, from beginning to end is the alderman’s name used, the 
company itself don’t know exactly how the soap is distributed 
and the broker, even if he had a mind to, couldn’t tell enough 
to do any harm. Talk about clever people, well, if you want 
a real cute party, tackle an alderman. The poorest stick 
in the council can give the best commissioner on the board 
cards and spades at fine work and then win the game on 
natural points.” 

The trio laughed again, and Larue, desiring to be 
impartial^ remarked in the easy vernacular employed by the 
commissioner, ‘^Well, this looks like a case of horse-and. 
Both tales are very cunning, and there’s no telling who has 
got the best of it. However, I’m satisfied that whether it’s 
an alderman or a county commissioner, that whenever you 
meet one or the other you’ve got a dead wise party to deal 
with.” 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 


89 


Some time thereafter the two officials departed, both being 
‘‘ pretty well corked,’' as the alderman put it. 

The business of the saloon proceeded without incident 
for a while. Men marched in, drank, paid and marched 
out in a strange perfunctory^ way. Now and then a drinker, 
knowing Larue, would state a few commonplaces, to which 
he in kind replied, but ordinarily little was said, and often 
not a word was spoken. 

A passer-by upon the street dropped in or a laborer at 
some neighboring task filched a moment to run over to the 
saloon. He laid a silver dime upon the counter; Larue set 
forth a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, one filled with 
water; the tippler poured out from one to three ounces of 
the liquor, swallowed it at a gasp, drank the water and 
went out. Children came in with pails and bottles to be 
filled, — now a little girl with a ragged shawl over her head, 
shyly asked that her bucket be filled with beer, and again a 
dirty-faced small boy presented a bottle with the command, 
“ Give dad another nickel’s worth of gin.” A good deal of 
this had passed without variation when the door was softly 
opened just enough to admit a bloated, bearded face, with 
eyes that timidly scouted the interior. At sight of Jack 
the head was withdrawn, but the saloonist had espied it and 
called but, “ Come in Luffy, I want to see you. Bring in 
the other mark too.” 

The door slowly re-opened and now Luffy ventured to 
intrude his entire person, though it was evident that he still 
had misgivings. He held the door open and behind him 
crept with tottering steps a man in the most extravagant 
state of ‘‘ total wreck.” His clothing was a patch of shreds, 


90 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


yet seemed full as secure as his bodily frame, which 
threatened to fall apart at every rickety step by which he 
moved. He was half blind and groped with little timorous 
whimperings at Luffy’s heels. 

“ Well,’' ejaculated Larue as he surveyed the wretch, 

where did you get that, Luffy ? 

Oh, that’s old Fin Poppels,” said Luffy with a grin. 
“ He’s been under the weather lately.” 

Old Fin thereat made a shaky bow and mumbled some- 
thing in acknowledgment of the presentation. 

“Well take a drink,” said Larue, as he placed a bottle on 
the bar. 

The light of perfect comfort came into LulBfy’s eyes and 
he said urgently to his companion, “Come on up. Fin, 
here’s suthin’.” 

Old Fin’s alacrity was comic enough to make Larue laugh, 
for he propelled his rattle-trap body across the floor with an 
eager haste that seemed certain to shake him all to pieces. 
He filled his glass to the brim at which Larue remarked 
that the invitation was to take a drink and not a bath. The 
drinks were to both old fellows little less than life-pre- 
servers, and old Fin actually wept with relief, for the myriad 
abscesses through his corroded system were clamoring for 
their only lotion. His case marks the triumph of homeo- 
pathic science, for there was nothing to cure, as it is put 
by those who know, but ^‘the hair of the dog that bit him.” 

“Luffy,” said Larue, clearing away the glasses, •“ You’re 
to register this time in the Eighteenth. The Green Tree’ll 
be your hang out, that’s the 11th precinct. Get over there 
now any time and tell O’Byrne I sent you. You can take 


DEEPLY CONFIDENTIAL. 


91 


ten of the boys there with you, but let me know how many 
you take. It’s good for sixty days, until after election. ” 

Luffy could scarcely measure his joy. He pointed to Old 
Fin and said, Here’s a good one right here.” 

“But that old rag-bag won’t live till election day,” said 
Larue. 

Oh, yes, he will. He’s been that way a long time, ain’t 
you. Fin ? ” said Luffy. 

“ A long time,” chattered Old^Fin, nearly wagging his head 
off : I’ll live. Oh, I’ll live. What is it. Luff, old friend ? ” 

“ A most elegant thing,” excitedly replied Luffy, shaking 
Old Fin in a manner that would have finished the work of 
the palsy if long continued. ‘^It’s vote, my boy! Vote in 
the Eighteenth I Bed and board at the Green Tree. Sixty 
days of it 1 Drink, too, — eh. Jack ? ” 

Larue was laughing and said, “ Well, yes, some, but we 
ain’t going to swill you.” 

‘‘ Drink, too 1 D’ye hear that, Finny my lad ? Drink 1 ” 
shouted Luffy, still shaking the old man. What d’ye think 
of that ? ” 

Tears were streaming down Old Fin’s face and he poth- 
ered about the floor ecstatically, repeating the magic 
words: Bed — board — drink ! ” and chuckling and weeping 
and fretting his hard old hands together. “ The saints 
bless the vote I Sixty days — bed — board — drink.” 

The Eighteenth was a residence ward for the most of its 
territory — silk stocking — and had been one of the few from 
which a saloonist could not go to the common council. 

The hour reached 10 o’clock without further event, when 
Hackles returned. 


CHAPTER IX. 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 

Off in the northw’est corner of the South side, in the angle 
formed by the confluence of the south branch and main body 
of that foul lagoon, miscalled the Chicago river; off there, 
where masts and chimneys, roofs and spars, are mingled over- 
head; where the smell of barreled sugars, cured meats, hides, 
oakum, tar, and sewage blend in the boquet of commerce; 
where tunnels, docks and false land give suspicion to the very 
earth; where the ship-chandler, importer, and wholesale 
provisioner raise babel all day, it is queer at night. It is 
black and lonesome. If you stood there any time in the 
hours between sunset and dawn you could scarcely credit 
that the scene under daylight was one of the most animated 
on the face of the earth. It is the very heart of Chicago’s 
tremendous jobbing trade region, but its desertion by night 
is utter. The crowded buildings wear their shadows like 
crape, and the black street yawns between them like an 
abyss; the alleys gape like the mouths of catacombs; the 
basements, with burst and ill-barred doors, lie deep and 
mysterious; bales, boxes and barrels are piled convenient to 
ambuscades of cut-throats and goblins; the walks are worn 
93 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 


93 


and treacherous, and the wind at whatever gauge, plays an 
eternally hideous sport with everything that hangs loose; your 
own foot-steps awaken eerie echoes like ghostly challenges, 
and the swish of the horrible river comes to your ears like the 
gibbering converse of the suicidal dead within its fecal 
depths. 

The heart of the timid sickens with fear and the nerves of 
the bold are primed for emergencies in this quarter by night. 

But to the mind of a student there would be less of wonder 
in this gravelike dreariness than in the one small effort that 
is made to overcome it. This enterprise is conducted in a 
building which, it is little enough to say, looks dismally out 
of place here. In the rush of reconstruction that followed 
the great fire some one built squarely in the middle of the 
first block south of the river a two-story store and flat, and 
neither the subsequent advance in values nor the clamor of 
the trade for this advantageous location has moved the 
indifferent owner to make the least alteration. There it 
stands, in cracked and weather-worn red brick, an unsightly 
depression in the lofty piles of warehouses that flank it and 
face it and command it from the rear with six and seven story 
frowns. It is probably natural enough that the store 
happens to contain a saloon as a convenient buffet by day 
for the stevedores of the vessels and the truckmen and clerks 
of the houses, and as the resort for a disreputable miscellany 
by night. It is no attractive place, save for the fact that the 
proprietor has set up, on the curb before the door, a large, 
square, transparent and illuminable sign. Aside from the 
sparse and feeble street lamps, this sign is the only luminous 



94 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


oasis in this desert of gloom. It is certainly a most reassur- 
ing sight to see, though it be the beacon of a doggery. 

Here, at intervals during the night, the rapid roll of wheels 
and a smart clattter of hoofs herald the night-faring hack or 
cab. It needs a practiced eye to tell what manner of object 
is bearing down from a distance with fire-litten eyes. But 
as it approaches this one proves to be a hack. You 
can catch the double measure in the duet of flint and 
steel, with its optical effect, in sparks knocked out of the 
paving. 

Quite as commonplace as is the hack with its all too work- 
a-day and plebeian name, it dons a weird charm after night. 
All objects, even the most familiar, the shrubbery on the 
lawn, the trellis at the side of the house, the gate, the pump, 
and in-doors too, the half-opened closet-door, the very 
furniture, your own discarded clothing can be invested wi.th 
alarms in the dark. But the hack, if you have a mind for 
it, can affect you in that chill way worse than any of these. 
Its spectral steeds and tenebrous outline, with its ghostly 
driver, form a basis upon which is wrought all the criminal 
tales, involving close-carriages by night, that have conspired 
to abuse our young intellects. A carriage plunging through 
a by-street at midnight is the sub-structure of almost any 
harrowing romance you want, and the cry that issues from 
this hack, as it swings to the curb and strikes a halt in the 
full light of the saloon-front, sets the story going. 

A cry was said, meaning simply an effort of the voice, for 
what cry was ever thrown to the midnight sky in a bravura 
so sustained ! 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 


95 


It was a laugh, a woman's laugh — clear, ringing, hilarious, 
defiant, drunken. 

Even as the driver leaped down the door was kicked open 
from within, and with a rush and rustle of trim and garish 
skirts the merrymaker of a moment since bounded to the 
walk. With almost equal expedition another of similar 
model emerged, followed by two men, each of slik hat, high 
collar and light overcoat. With a scrambling haste, which 
ministered to more merriment and cheated the greedy 
saloon loungers aroused to inquiry by the uproar, the women 
darted in at a side-door and bolted up-stairs. The gentle- 
men tarried with uneasy legs and a vast confusion of 
accounts to pay the driver, a task which was ultimately per- 
formed to the triple profit of the latter. The gentlemen 
then betook themselves in the wake of the women under a 
fusilade of maudlin comments from the saloon door. 

It was at an hour a little prior to this mere incident of 
the hack that Hackles returned “ from the show." He was 
well betimes, with a moment or more to spare ere 10 
o'clock, but he made no effort to conceal the fact that he 
felt himself coerced. 

He slunk into the saloon and slouched along, disdaining 
any further notification of his presence for duty than the 
noise of his shuffling feet. 

‘‘A feller what's been a hustlin' all day carryin' up 
scen'ry fur a ticket and den ain’t allowed ter see the after- 
piece is playin' in dead hard luck and dat's me,” muttered 
Hackles to himself as he proceeded, and just then Jack took, 
cognizance of him. 


96 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Come here,” ordered Larue, sharply. 

Hackles looked doubly rebellious and scarcely raised his. 
feet as he granted a reluctant obedience. 

“Come here ! Do you understand ? ” and Larue accom- 
panied this peremptory summons with a movement that 
brought the boy with breath-taking speed. 

“ What do you mean, you little whelp, by showing your 
spunk to me ? Now drop this foolishness and listen,” and 
he shook the boy vigorously by the shoulder. 

“ I want you to go and find out where Bess is. I just want 
you to locate her without speaking to her or letting her see 
you. When you get her spotted, come back and tell me. 
Now make lively and don't you come back this time without 
some report, or — and he gave the boy a none too gentle 
start with his boot. 

Hackles had been on such errands before and it was with 
a thoroughly intelligent purpose that he instituted the 
search. 

The paths he traced and the resorts he visited in the likeli- 
hood of finding Bess are unworthy of our pursuit. He 
looked through several concert saloona in the blazing heart 
of the town; he made diligent inquiry at the doors of the two 
convenient variety theatres, and attended a number of even 
less creditable resorts. It was in the midst of protracted 
failure that, at this point, he bethought him of the house of 
the luminous sign. 

Beaching the house the boy evaded the attention of tlie 
men in the saloon, and stealing in at the unlatched side-door 
ascended the stairs. A gaselier with crystal pendants and 




UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 


97 ' 


a Japanese shade burned dimly at the head of the flight and 
shed a mellow, tinted light through the upper corridor. 
The furnishing of this hallway was so sharply contrasted to 
the exterior of the building and the general cast of the 
quarter as to arrest the intruder with astonishment. Deeply 
carpeted in crimson velvet, walled and ceiled in gilt and 
cream Lincrusta of heavy relief, with doorways, curtained in 
blue and old-gold plushes, hall furniture of rosewood 
paneled with repousse brass, the prospect presented a riot 
of elegance to Hackles as, after noiselessly crawling up the 
stairs, he peered cautiously over the top step. It was totally 
without impression from his surroundings that he recon- 
noitred before further progress. This was not his first visit 
hither or to other quarters of equally guilty magnificence, 
His attention rested upon a sound of festivity that reached 
him through one of the several doors in advance. There 
was light song, laughter, high-worded discourse, and the 
clink of glass well blended. Hackles strainedly bent him- 
self to dissect this confusion. He sought to single out and 
identify one voice. For full five minutes he crouched, 
hearkening. At last, with a nod of satisfaction, he boldly 
arose and advanced. He approached the door through 
which the festal sound issued and rapped sharply. Sudden 
silence ensued within and the door was opened by a negro 
in a jacket and apron. 

“ I want to see Miss Bess,” said Hackles, loudly, as the 
rather astonished servant was hastening to close the door. 

‘‘Here I am, Harry, my boy,” Bess answered, as she rose 
and came forward to the door. Sbe was flushed with wine 





and walked unsteadily, her bonnet lurched toppingly, and 
her handsome features (in the best repair that night) were 
distorted by a good-humored leer. 

“ Say, Bess,’’ said Hackles, quickly, ' as she appeared. 
Jack is terribly worked up about you to-night an’ I’m sent 
out to spot you. You’ve got to go home, Bess. It’s bad 
enough now; if yer stay out any longer Jack’ll kill you — it’s 
dead true, Bess, he’ll murder you. I’m takin’ steep chances 
ter tell yer, Bess, ’cause I was told not to Ipt yer know, but 
I’ve got to tell him where yer are ef yer don’t come. Come 
on now, Bess. I’ll fetch a cab for yer.” 

Bess had listened with a tipsy chuckle to each sen- 
tence, and as he finished laughed hilariously. Slapping 
the boy lightly on the cheek and shoving him from 
her, as she backed into the room, she said with a great 
show of humor: 

‘‘ Tell Jack I say for him to go to the devil or go to bed, 
that I’m all right, and I’ll be home later on.” 

The door closed on the boy struggling to make another 
plea, and the prompt resumption of festivities within 
impressed him that further effort was useless. 


It was with such sympathy for Bess and apprehension of 
the penalties awaiting her as would have awakened a more 
refined nature to sighs, perhaps to tears, that Hackles 
sought the street. His feelings, however, found ample and j 


heartfelt expression in boding shakes of the head and^ 
repeated imprecations, less upon her or upon Jack than ^ 

upon the facts and prospects of the situation itself. 

Jack challenged him for a report the'^instant he stepped | 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 


99 


into the saloon. Hackles made a brief, surly statement of 
the truth. 

The saloonist asked no more, nor did his face betray a 
sentiment which the news might have aroused. Hackles 
turned again into the street, and Larue, throwing his head 
back, whistled softly a tuneless strain, drumming an 
accompanying tattoo with his fingers upon the bar. 

In that expressionless attitude he was revolving plans of 
punishment, measures of revenge upon the woman who 
shared his life and had given him this day and night’s 
affront. His dallying hands were at her throat, his placid 
eyes drank in the terror and agony of her face, his heedless 
ears were ringing with the echoes of her shrieks, his unruf- 
fled pulse beat time to the exultation that thrilled him at 
her tortures. Should he kill her — aye, curse her, yes — but 
no — and why not kill ? Murder is irremediable and full of 
consequences. He had further purpose of her beside, but 
he would punish her and hurt — , oh, truly and severely — 
but how ? The meeting and the moment must suggest. 
Such sweet unction were these meditations to his barbaric 
heart, so trained and used to brutal exercises were his 
senses, that he whistled and drummed. 

His bartender presently returned, and, doffing the apron, 
Larue yielded the place behind the bar. 

“Close up without me,” he said, by way of instruction to 
the man. He then deliberately fitted his cuffs, put on his 
coat and hat and swallowing a glassful of liquor, walked 
nonchalantly out. At the corner he called a cab. By his 
direction the cab sped through the lighted and ever-wakeful 


100 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


heart of town, described a few sharp turns, and forged 
into the shadowy angle of the river. Glinting through the 
gloom, dispelling the silence, the vehicle rattled on until in 
the glare of the square, illumined sign it drew rein. Larue 
stepped out, bidding the driver remain, and entering the 
side-door, ascended the stairs. He, too, caught the noise 
of revelry and with little delay sat upon the right door. His 
knock brought the negro, now evidently indignant at the 
repeated and unceremonious intrusions. His feelings were 
little mended when Larue struck his hand from the knob 
and, throwing the door wide open, pushed in with the air 
of a master. About a table in a group of four, with two 
young gentlemen and another woman, Bess sat, sharing the 
speechless surprise which fell upon the board. As she 
recognized Larue she started with a slight cry. Her 
features rallied from their leer into an expression of fright; 
the flush of wine fled from her cheeks, and her drunken 
bravado, which she had freely commissioned Hackles to 
report, took incontinent flight in Jack’s f)resence. 

He waved his hand toward the door, saying merely, 
Come ! ” 

She arose unhesitatingly and advanced. 

Well, I guess not,” exclaimed one of the young men, 
with a bluff show of tipsy courage, as he vainly endeavored 
to get out of his seat. “No man is going to walk off with 
our company in that shape.” 

Bess raised her hand in a gesture to convey the folly of 
resistance and her perfect willingness to be torn away, so 
that the young man collapsed in amaze. 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT, 


101 




Larue preceded her to the top of the stairs, and as she 
reached him he seized her by the arm, saying again and in 
a calm voice: “Come on.” ’ 

“O Jack, Jack,” she sobbed, in a yielding tremor of 
dread. 

He made no reply, but assisted her staggering feet down 
the stairs and into the cab, where she fell back weeping 
convulsively. 

Larue paused for some explicit instructions to the cab- 
man, and then took his place at her side. The rapid ride 
was passed in silence between them and terminated, with 
many a jolt and heave of the springs, in the alley at the 
back door of Larue’s saloon and lodgings. He aided her to 
alight and led her by the hand as he struck matches in 
advance to facilitate their ascent of the rickety stairs. Once 
within their room, Bess flung herself, with a burst of tears, 
into a chair. Lartie leisurely lighted the lamp, removed his 
coat, and turned to her. 

In groveling terror the woman threw herself upon the 
floor, cringed and chattered and begged for mercy. 

“Well make no more talk of this 5 111 hear your lies no 
more,” he said. “ Come here.” 

He stooped, tore away her grasp, and, raising her bodily 
shoved her with crushing violence against the wall. 

She screamed and he grasped her jaw, sinking his fingers 
deep into her throat and cheek. She choked and frothed, 
clamored inarticulately and tore at his hand. 

“ Come here, I say,” and he jerked her forward till in the 

crush of lips, tongue and teeth, the blood broke from her 






102 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


mouth, and dripped upon his wrist. 111 fix you so you’ll 
stay ht home for a few days, anyway till I’m through with 
this job. Watch me! Your eyes are big enough just now 
to see and catch how it is done.” 

Then bending back her head till it seemed that the 
tendons of her jaw would snap under the strain, he struck 
her with deliberate purpose and calculation fairly in the 
right eye. At the moment he launched her from him and 
with a swooning sob she fell against the wall and dropped 
to the floor. As her body stretched pronely out her head 
rested still against the wall and pressed her chin sharply 
upon her breast, while the bonnet, still clinging with pins 
and ribbons to her tumbled hair, fell over her face. With a 
laugh at the evident discomfort of this posture Larue 
stooped and, seizing her ankle, pulled her toward him till her 
head slipped down the wall and dropped face upward upon 
the floor. ’ Straightening himself he regarded her compla- 
cently a ipoment and then went down-stairs. 

The saloon had been closed for some time and was in 
heavy gloom. A light burned dimly over the bar as the 
police require, and even as he advanced Jack perceived an 
officer at the front shading his eyes against the glass and 
peering intently within. He dropped down out of possible 
sight until the reconnoissance had passed and then stole 
cautiously to the bar, behind which he crouched. Not dar- 
ing to arise and expose himself to view from the street he 
resorted to the cob^^ebbed bottle in the low cupboard and 
drank long and gratefully. In the same covert manner he 
made his return through the uncertain shadows to the rear 
door and regained his room. 


UNDER COVER OF NIGHT. 


103 


Bess lay as lie had left her, breathing heavily in the stupor 
of drink and sodden pain. He pushed her bonnet and hair 
from her face. It was with great satisfaction that he 
observed the pouting crest of blue that was gathering under 
her eye. 

Shell have to nurse that eye close at home for awhile, I 
reckon,’' he chuckled softly. 

He then gave her no further attention, but undressed and 
lowering tlie light turned into bed. 

His snore shortly chimed with the stertorous breathing 
of the woman, who, still laced in the wreck of her fine dress, 
disfigured, fevered and drunken, tossed and rolled painfully 
upon the floor as the night passed and the light came. 

And so the day which awakens the world^ but sends ‘Hhe 
Levee ” to bed, found them, and it was raining. It rained, 
not heavily, for if one looks for an aptitude of sentiment in 
the state of nature on that morning the elements should have 
raged in tliunder gusts, but as it was to be a long rain, as 
the facts of this chronicle demand, it was slow and steady. 
The wind sighed soft and sadly, if you will it, the drops 
coursed troopingly down the window panes like tears stream 
down the face of sorrow, and the water dripped from the 
reeking eaves and sills into the puddled alley below with a 
sound akin, in fancy, to sobbing. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 

Ip the genteel interest of Rupert Square was aroused by 
the re-establishment of No. 50, the inhabitants had been but 
little enlightened during the first few weeks of its occupancy. 
Evidence of life and good living within was obtained in the 
frequent delivery of staple provisions, delicacies of the 
season,” cases of wine, potted plants, large and finely framed 
pictures, and sundry objects of equally prosperous character. 
Numerous embellishments brought thither groups of work- 
men, and passing glances through the open casements 
were reputed to disclose magnificent fittings. But the 
occupants themselves, in whom interest must center, were 
so far less observable that they stood for speculative sub- 
jects at all meetings of the cultured social circle, or semi- circle 
rather, which the square comprised. There were two 
servants certainly. Thomas and Eliza betrayed so much, as 
their duties from time to time took them into the area or 
upon the street. There was one gentleman, the obvious 
propri-etor, a fact which Mr. Jarvis in person revealed. He 
occasionally drove out in a hired carriage and had often 
been met on these solitary excursions by the square’s folks 
104 


THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 


105 


as they, too, resorted to the boulevards and esplanades along 
the lake. Of evenings it was his wont to stroll the park and 
pace the arc of the square smoking and meditating. He 
invited no address and passed unheeded the tentative 
courtesies of the gentleman. 

An incident on this point occurred a day or two since. 
A young man who had on the board of trade acquired a 
democratic indifference to the gentle custom of presentation, 
and who had determined that his mother and sisters had 
descanted sufficiently upon the strange gentleman, accosted 
Mr. Jarvis at the park fountain one evening and, halting in 
friendly fashion, ventured, with a sweeping gesture: “ This 
is a charming resort.” 

“ Quite so,” replied Mr. Jarvis, softly. 

The weather is growing warmer and the heated term 
will soon be upon us,” furthered the young gentlemen. 

“Doubtless,” returned Mr. Jarvis gently and stirring a 
step as though to move on. 

“Ah, pardon me,” spoke up the young man with a brisk 
show of good purpose. “ I believe you have recently 
become a resident of the square. We have quite a little 
colony here, all mutually acquainted, with the possible 
exception of yourself. Will you permit me to introduce 
myself and obtain a reciprocal favor on your part?” 

“ When your acquaintance is desired, sir, I shall make no 
hesitancy of soliciting it, sir.” 

The young man stood in angry astonishment, debating 
with himself for a moment the propriety of a replicative 
insult or an assault, but finally yielded his emotions to the 


106 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


consciousness of liis disadvantage. Eeturning home he 
related his adventure, which was greeted with a sympathetic 
laugh from his friends. 

Thus No. 50 flourished mysteriously and Mr. Jarvis 
thrived unmolested during the jpassing days and weeks. 
He sauntered on the walk its full length and hack again, 
apparently oblivious of surrounding life. Of evenings the 
family groups upon their stoops would cease their contem- 
plation of the emerging stars and darkling park, or check 
their laughter and chat as he approached and passed. 
Then, as he proceeded, the unfailing theme was the peculiar 
gentleman of iron-gray years and sombre attire who occu- 
pied No. 50. Truly, Mr. Jarvis had wrought the phenome- 
non of arousing the chaste emotions of Rupert Square to 
positive^ — who says vulgar ? — curiosity. 

No rumor of the Jarvis household’s police adventure, 
caused by Thomas, had gotten abroad, but the very next 
day, during the afternoon following the trial, Eliza indirectly 
precipitated a positive scandal which gained vast notoriety 
through the square, and as the details were never learned 
Mr. Jarvis and his home were in consequence promoted 
considerably in mystic importance. 

About 3 o’clock in the afternoon of that day, a police 
officer, helmeted, belted, bloused and clubbed, and accom- 
panied by a young creature of kitchen-girl aspect, was seen 
to enter the front door of the Jarvis’ residence. When it 
was said was seen ” it is not intended to mean that the 
square was out en masse to witness the event. It required, 
for example, but one house-maid to observe this extra- 


THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 


107 




ordinary spectacle to speed the news over the area walls 
into each kitchen and thence with greater or less dispatch 
to each living room. Imagine the sensation in your own 
refined quarter. Many an equally well-balanced neighbor- 
hood would have lurched under the strain, and a common 
locality would have bristled at its windows. In Kupert 
Square, however, the sensation was limited to a general 
detail of the servants to discover and report further develop- 
ments. In consequence each basement beneath the stoop, 
from No. 49 to No. 1, presently had its domestic scouts 
picketed. 

When the officer had reached the door he sprung the bell 
vigorously. Eliza, from the kitchen depths, answered in 
haste, but fell back in affright as she disclosed the visitors. 

Is Miss Eliza Doe, right name unknown, in ? ” inquired 
the officer, boldly entering with the girl at his heels. 

‘‘ There she is,'’ contemptuously cried the latter, pointing 
at the trembling housekeeper, there's the thing that won’t 
give me my pay. I guess the two old men who hang out 
with her are hiding somewhere." 

‘‘ Never mind ; keep quiet," said the policeman, address- 
ing his excited companion. ‘‘ I've got a warrant for you. 
Miss Eliza whatever your name may happen to be." 

It enters properly to remark here that in drafting 
warrants for offenders of unknown name the police have a 
felicitous and convenient custom of terming the males, John 
Doe and Richard Roe, and the females, Mary Doe and Jane 
Roe, or combining portions thereof with such fragments of 
the actual name as they may have obtained. The custom is 




108 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

not peculiar to Chicago, but is common, as are many other 
phrases of professional cant, throughout the police of the 
United States. In this case the complainant evidently knew 
only the housekeeper’s Christian name. 

‘‘For what? ” gasped Eliza at this astounding announce- 
ment. 

“ For larceny/’ was the curt reply. 

“ Yes, for stealing my dress,” half shrieked the young 
woman. “ I got this warrant. I am having you arrested. 
You can’t rob me and keep my wages. I want the six dollars 
you owe me and my dress. Oh, I’ll get them out of 3^ou. 
Bundle up in a hurry and come along to jail, where, I don’t 
doubt at all, you have been before.” 

The angry creature might have continued this tirade 
indefinite!}'' had not the officer shaken her vigorously by the 
shoulder and admonished her to “ shut up.” 

Eliza had leaned against the wall and with her hands 
over her face was sobbing hysterically. 

“ Can you come along now'? The station ain’t far and 
you can, of course, get bail right off,” saickthe officer rather 
deferentially, 

“ Why, I don’t know what this means. I paid the girl in 
full and I haven’t her dress. Oh, it’s some awful plot, Mr. 
Officer, some awful plot,” wept Eliza. 

“ Then of course it’ll come out all right in the morning. 
Nerve yourself and fix up and come along now,” replied the 
officer in a genuine kindly tone, at the same time supjDressing 
the girl, who seemed threatened with another outbreak. 
“ Maybe, good woman, there’s some one at home that you’d 



THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 


109 


like to tell about this and wlio’d fix up your bail at the 
station ? 

Eliza wrung her hands in mental torture, and as though 
consenting with herself upon some repugnant resort, said, 
softly: “Yes, Mr. Jarvis, the master is at home. I will see 
him.” She started up- stairs, at which the termagantish 
young person broke into furious remonstrance. 

“ Don^fc let her go. She’ll get away. She’ll hide my dress. 
She’ll burn it up. Stop her, I say, or she’ll get the best of 
us.” 

The officer seemed less apprehensive for he turned on the 
girl and shoved her into the corner by the door with such a 
squeeze of her arm that she cried out with pain and then 
lapsed into suffering silence. 

Mr. Jarvis had meanwhile been aroused by the noise in 
the hallway as he sat in his study adjoining his bedroom — 
the second floor front — and had at last set forth to investi- 
gate the cause of disorder. He reached the head of the 
stairs just as Eliza finished her labored ascent. 

“ What is the matter ? ” he demanded of her. 

The poor woman could not reply, but fell at his feet with 
a resumption of sobbing in double force. 

“ Well, well, this is strange,” remarked Mr. Jarvis as he 
stepped past Eliza and stooping, glanced down the stairs 
into the hallway. The simple disclosure — the officer and 
the girl — had an electric effect upon him. With an ejacu- 
lation of rage he ran back into the room, secured his heavy 
cane, and dashed down the stairs. As the officer observed 
the impending onslaught he made a nervous start toward 


... 


110 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


the door, then shifting his purpose he faced about, unslung 
his club, and stood his ground. Mr. Jarvis’ dressing-gown 
fluttered far in the rear as with an athletic bound he cleared 
the bottom steps and poised over the policeman with 
uplifted cane. 

‘‘No violence, sir, I warn you. It will be the worse for 
you. I didn’t come for you, sir. Be calm, I advise you, 
sir,” and the voice of the officer, who was more uncertain of 
his duty than frightened, trembled perceptibly, but he 
moved his fighting arm into striking range and threw his 
left upward and bent over his head. 

“Then what do you want, you dog? Am I to be eternally 
annoyed by you whelps? Speak quickly or I’ll brain 
you.” 

“ This girl here has a warrant out for your wife — or maybe 
some one else — called Eliza,” the officer hastened to say. 

“ Who is this girl, then ? ” shouted Mr. Jarvis, turning 
fiercely upon her. 

“ You ought to know,” scornfully replied she, and with 
folded arms and sneering countenance she turned from the 
“ striking ” tableau to Mr. Jarvis in person. 

“ But I don’t know,” thundered Mr. Jarvis exasperatedly, 
“ and tell me quick or I’ll grind you both to powder.” 

The atom of time required to fetch Mr. Jarvis a satisfying 
reply can be filled with a brief statement of what she was. 
Her name was Mary Mack, a domestic whom Eliza had 
obtained three weeks before after laborous dealings with one 
of those unscrupulous concerns known as an employment 
bureau. The girl was worthless and a thief. Eliza had 


THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 


Ill 


tolerated her until the day previous, when she released her, 
allowing her full pay, but abstracting from her luggage a 
few articles, the property of Mr. Jarvis. The foiled and 
disappointed drab sought immediate revenge by telling the 
police judge a long and pitiful story of the outrages she 
suffered and her pecuniary loss and thereby secured a 
warrant. She acted upon the hypothesis that almost any 
claim would be granted before permitting the complaint to 
reach a hearing. This, gentlefolk, is blackmail, and one of 
the most frequently practiced phases of that crime. The 
stake played for is usually small, the pretenses plausible, 
and the reactional dangers, for these reasons, few. The 
effrontery and steel-like nerve of these criminal women are 
almost freaks of nature. 

“ I am Mary Mack, who was a maid here and who was 
robbed by that woman; that’s who I am.” 

“Eliza, did you have this woman employed here ? ” asked 
Mr. Jarvis. 

‘‘Yes,” replied the housekeeper, still weeping. 

“ Are any of her belongings left here and do you owe her 
anything ? ” 

“ No sir.” 

“ You see, sir, that this girl holds no claim upon me or my 
housekeeper, so that further proceedings are unwarranted,” 
delivering which with much dignity Mr. Jarvis opened the 
door. 

“But, sir,” protested the officer, “ that’s for the judge to 
say. My first instructions are never to pass upon the 
evidence of any case. I’ve got a warrant to serve upon this 
woman and must serve it. ” 


112 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


You will leave this house at once/' replied Mr. Jarvis, 
swelling into a dangerous attitude. 

But be reasonable — ” 

‘‘Leave this house; go! and Mr. Jarvis raised his cane 
and bespoke in every muscle a determination to parley 
no more. 

Here was an ordeal of no easy gauge for the ofiicer. 
Professional pride and personal resentment inspired him to 
serve his writ and take the respondent if the task demanded 
the peril of his life. Discretion on the other hand thrust 
upon him an instant score of considerations why he should 
not in such a case leap to extremes. 

“ It's a serious thing, sir, to resist an officer, and you may 
be made to feel it plainer than you'll like after I see my 
lieutenant. I’m not certain of myself on a few points in 
this case or it’s little I’d stop on the head of your threats or 
your cane, sir. Be sure I'll come back presently with a 
clear understanding of my duty and it'll be the worse for 
you then, sir, if you interfere,” and so saying the officer 
withdrew, leading the now rather frightened girl with him. 

Mr. Jarvis' passion seemed to have swollen within him at 
this speech for it was with a livid face and choking utterance 
that he retorted: “I advise you upon your own well-being 
to come no more. I have ever lived within the bounds of 
the law and the annoyance I have recently suffered from 
the police must never be repeated. I swear before Almighty 
God to kill the next cursed policeman who steps within my 
doors.” 

The amiable Miss Mack, with her fiery temper quenched 


113 




THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 

and brazen pretensions overturned, was quite terrified at 
Mr. Jarvis’ intense clioler, and as she dragged the officer 
precipitately down the stoop, she announced her purpose to 
forthwith non-suit the case, a resolution which the embar- 
rassed patrolman warmly applauded. 

But gracious me, what scandal! The outposts and 
pickets of good breeding were driven in, the camp of 
culture was taken by storm, and gossip stalked like a vandal 
victor through Kupert Square. The fifty families sat in 
caucus at dinner that evening— dinner mind you, for while 
elsewhere about town it may be tea or supper, it is dinner 
in Bupert Square, from No. 1 to 49 inclusive, and likely 
enough in 50 — 6 o’clock dinner! Gracious, how some 
people can stickle for titles and partake ” of their chaste 
comestibles, while others are content to devour, under any 
name, what the larder affords. But that comes of the variety 
of life and has nothing to do with Mrs. Tierce’s state of 
mind. Not that I want to say, cherished reader, that you 
and I and all of us who are not already tliere could not 
acquit ourselves in the first estate. Some day, I promise 
you, when those ships, now faintly seen standing in through 
the dim, purple haze of the good time coming, reach port, 
we will have our dinners at whatever o’clock we please, and 
be as particular about what we call our victuals as the best 
of them. 

Mrs. Tierce was the occupant of 49, and the state of her 
sensitive mind can, as the ancient and accepted saying has 
it, be better conceived than defined. Kelict of Ezra K. Tierce, 
senior of Tierce, Case, Caddy & Co., the pioneer pork- 


114 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


packers and original manufacturers of oleomargarine and 
other “ dairy ” products, Mrs. Tierce was rich — don’t doubt 
it — refined withal (like her late spouse’s oils) and pompous, 
to say it where she can’t overhear — and could have been 
primely cast for the dowager duchess were we dealing much 
in fine folks. She heard with unfeigned astonishment and 
swelling indignation the story of the Jarvis’ episode as 
related with countless La, ma’am’s ” and ‘‘ It’s awfiil, 
ma’am’s ” by her maid. It will be observed that Mrs. Tierce 
does not fail of the dignity of her station and that she duly 
has her maid. 

‘‘ Well, I never ! ” she ejaculated in her deep, rich voice, 
at the end of the narration. “ But that’s what I might have 
known would come of it. When I contributed $15,000 for 
my share of Rupert Square, both Mr. Banks and Mr. Teller 
promised neighbors of equal standing. Now look at it. 
Mr. Butler moves out in less than four years and some 
questionable person, dead to common courtesies and with 
the brutal name of Jarvis, moves in to breed a scandal. 
I’ll not submit to it. I’ll Complain at once, to-morrow 
morning, early. Constance (to the maid), tell John to 
inform James to have the wagonette and bays at the door at 
10 to-morrow morning. (And aside.) I’ll make Mr. Banks 
account for this matter. ” 

While Mrs. Tierce thus practically seized the situation, 
Mrs. Gauge next door, the Misses Detro23 beyond, and the 
remaining mesdames and misses to No. 1, inclusive, were 
indulging in delicate starts of dismay as they in turn heard 
the news, and straightway resolving, with that true sj)irit of 


THE LIMIT OF PATIENCE. 


115 


feminine dependence, to submit tlie wliole vexed and 
insoluble problem to the male factors of the household. 
For this reason it may be imagined that when dinner pre- 
sented the opportunity an unusual animation of discourse 
prevailed that evening over the tables of Kupert Square. 


CHAPTEE XI. 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 

Descend, ye pitying rains ! Mark with your tears nature’s 
aggrieved estate. Sigh as ye may, ye compassionating 
winds. Let the united elements stir to sentiments of deep 
commiseration, since, unseen of feeling creatures, men have, 
under cover of the night, wrought work so foul. What 
deeds of the devil, through his human avatar in this broad 
land does the dawn each day disclose ! Nocturnal beasts 
that fill the shrieking jungle leave for the day less hideous 
evidences of rapacity than the sun at each rising discloses 
in a great Christian city. This, then, being as it may be, 
truly so, look for none worse than “ the Levee ” reveals, and 
exceed not the narrow province of our story to find 
enough. 

All hours to the blind are as one. To the sightless eyes 
there are no serene heavens, no clouded skies, no dawn, no 
eventide, no noon, no midnight, but an obscurity forever 
too profound for the scope and definition of light and night. 
So to the' abandoned heart there is neither pang nor 
quickening, no thorn can wound, no balm allay; its pulse of 
conscience is as insensible as the empty orbit of the eye. 

116 


117 




THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 

It was thus that with neither approval nor regret Jack 
arose to survey his work of the foregoing night. 

At his due time, the forenoon being then half spent, he 
awoke, and as was his wont started from deep sleep into full 
and alert consciousness. He glanced to where Bess had 
lain, and seeing her still there was satisfied. Presently he 
arose and walked to her and stirred her sharply with his 
bare foot. She groaned. He was in every respect satisfied. 
He glanced at her face; it was shocking. Her lips were 
black, hard and drawn so as to bare her set teeth. Tears, 
perspiration, and saliva had reduced the paint upon her face 
to a ghastly smear, in which meshes of her hair were glued. 
Her right eye was swollen until the aspect of an eye was 
lost. It was tightly shut, black, and slightly cut so that 
a thin stream of blood had coursed over her temple and 
into her ear, where it had coagulated and dried. There was 
a jewel hooked to the ear. 

The faintest smile quivered on Jack’s hard countenance. 
It was bidden there by neither ghoulish glee nor an 
appreciative sense of the grim contrast of the blood and the 
gem. It was a mere fleeting touch of professional pride. 
Flies swarmed over her face. He proceeded to dress him- 
self without heeding them or protecting her. It was per- 
haps his sole virtue, offered as no redeeming trait, that he 
was neat and precise in his habiliments. He was coarsely 
dandified and attention has been called to the fact that he 
dressed well up to the ideal of his class. Proceeding to 
wash his face and hands he discovered that the pitcher was 
empty. Conceiving properly that Bess had consumed the 


118 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


water in preparing for her intemperate sortie of the day 
before, he scowled upon her as he strode to the door and 
called below for the cook. That worthy responded with 
alacrity and appeared at the door below. 

Fetch me up some water,” commanded Larue. 

Jumpin’ Jerusalem ! I’m right in the midst of a frit- 
terin’ half counts; but, say. 111 send up Hackles. Just set 
the pitcher down at the head of the stairs and he’ll be up 
for it in a holy minute. An’ say, shall I put your cut on 
the fire ? All right, everything’ll be done quicker’n a wink.” 

So saying Jerry rushed back to the frying of his half- 
dozen oysters and commissioned Hackles to fill the pitcher. 

For once the boy was pleased with the task, for it prom- 
ised the opportunity of ascertaining Bess’ fate, which was 
direful enough, as his judgment and the noise he had over- 
heard upon her return warranted him in believing. In 
creditably brief time he rapped, with the brimming pitcher, 
at Larue’s door. Jack opened the door a few inches and 
reached forth one arm, but Hackles, nerved to such desperate 
boldness, feigned to stumble, and in delivering the pitcher 
pushed himself half through the door and saw Bess. It 
was worse than he had anticipated. To him she seemed 
dead, and bracing himself in the doorway he pleaded hur- 
riedly: Oh, Jack, what’s the matter with Bess. Let me get 
a doctor. Oh, is she dead.” 

He was unable to say more, for Larue dropped the 
pitcher, flung open the door, and rushed upon him. Hackles 
deftly eluded his dangerous guardian and fled down the 
stairs, to stop at the bottom and plead again. 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 


119 


‘‘You open your cursed head again and Til wring your 
neck,” Jack fairly hissed, and pointing to the saloon said, 
controlling his wrathful tones, “ Go in there and wait till I 
come down. I’ll have use of you.” 

When he did come down a short time thereafter he 
called Hackles to him and, giving him a cruel pinch on the 
shoulder as so much on the score of his late temerity, 
ordered him to go and ask ’Mandy Thomas to call on Bess 
at once. Through the back way Hackles hurried, across 
the alley and down toward the end of the block, where, in 
the tumble-down rear sheds of a large tenement, dwelt the 
object of his summons. 

Amanda Thomas was a quasi-pious old negress of the 
most generous propensities, who . discharged motherly 
offices for the all-too -motherless unfortunate girls and 
women of both races that populated the quarter, who 
harbored and nursed the wpunded thief, who contributed 
to the tissues of alibis, and who, to all of her wide acquaint- 
ance was a ministrix in sorrow or sickness. It may be 
credited that Hackles presented the urgency of the present 
requisition and was back-tracking in a minute, with the 
good, old black putting out her best gait at his heels. It is 
needless to chronicle with what elevation of the hands and 
expressions of amazement and pity ^Mandy beheld Bess, 
nor with what accurate speed she re-invested the bed with 
clean linen, changed the binding garments of the stricken 
woman for cool, white wear, bundled her under the cover, 
bound up her disordered hair, cleansed her face, and 
sponged her palms with cold water until with many a sigh 


120 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


and quivering muscle Bess opened her one effective eye and 
was conscious. 

God love us/’ cried the old woman, as she witnessed 
the returning light of mind and encouraged it with gentle 
laving of the hot temples. “ My pretty .Bessie, my poor, 
poor chile, do you know yer aunt *Mandy ? Yes, yes, ye 
does. C’o’se ye does. I knowed so. Nem’ mind, deary 
love, we’s all right. An’ dere’s dat little, rattlin’, ricklin’ 
Hackles, bes’ boy ever lived, back dis minnit wid de meat 
an’ de med’sin.” 

And sure enough, on the instant the boy bounded in, 
purveyed with the homely medicaments ’Mandy had dis- 
patched him to procure. Pre-eminent among these simple 
supplies was a small piece of raw meat which ’Mandy with 
deft hands bound over Bess’ tumified eye. The good old 
soul then seizing the other parcels ran down-stairs to secure 
from Jerry the hot water wherewithal to' brew some helle- 
bore tea. While she was engaged at this task behind the 
lunch-counter, Larue approached and inquired in a business- 
like way: ‘‘ Well, how is she ? ” 

‘Pears ter me dat you might go up an see fer ^^our- 
self,” replied the woman, turning a cold, accusing look on 
the man. 

“ Humph ! ” was Jack’s expressionless return, as he rolled 
his cigar over his tongue^ blew out an explosive cloud of 
smoke, and strode away. 

All this was in somewhat distasteful deference to Aunt 
’Mandy, whom he prized for her services and feared for the 
damaging knowledge she possessed. She was to him a 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 


121 


rather disagreeable but none the less necessary commodity 
and it was none of his purpose to give her offense. 

Upon the corner of the counter, over which he leaned, 
Larue had left two silver dollars, and these, with a chuckle 
and a grimace turned upon his retreating figure, Aunt 
Alandy seized as she passed out with the hot water. She 
paused at the foot of tha stairs, rested the pail upon a 
step, and knotted the dollars into a fold of her dress, 
chuckling the while and lamenting in many wags of the 
head and inarticulate mutterings the wickedness of the 
world in general and her own weakness in so profiting 
by it. 

Once more above stairs you never could have suspected 
that this simple, devoted, and good old creature, bustling 
about brewing a tea and comforting the sick woman with 
numerous restful arrangements of the bed clothes and pillows 
and uttering the happiest words of sympathy and cheer, had 
any shrewd notions of all that was bad in the situation. 
Judging by the color of the water and its bitter taste, 
sampling it with her finger tip, 'Mandy pronounced her tea 
ready and with little persuasion induced Bess to swallow a 
liberal quantity of it. Whatever the sovereign virtues Aunt 
’Mandy attributed to her favorite panacea, it was at all 
events a wholesome febrifuge and the sick woman was to 
profit by it. 

Hackles, who had been out, came into the room presently 
and approached the bed. 

“ Look out, boy, don’t ’sturb my chile/’ said ’Mandy, 
warningly. 


122 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


‘'I won’t desturb yer, will I Bess?” the boy appealed 
coaxingly. 

Bess shook her head with just a ghost of a smile and 
extended her hand. 

Hackles caught it in a grimy grasp, fumbled the white 
fingers a moment, endeavored to say something, and broke 
down in an outburst of juvenile grief, with loud boo-hoo’s, 
strangling sobs, and a torrent of tears. Bess now smiled 
pronouncedly, pressed the boy’s hand warmly, and beamed 
upon him as kindly as she might with her one serviceable 
eye. Aunt ’Mandy, aghast, ran forward and thrust Hackles 
away. 

“ Heavings and yarth ! w’at carryin’s on ! W’y, you cry- 
baby, you’ll make my pretty Bess think she’s done mos’ 
ready ter die, w’en she ain’t really sick a little bit. Now 
run along and don’ make no mo’ sech ’stravagarit fusses,” 
and so saying Aunt ’Mandy hustled Hackles out at the 
door. 

Wailing, snarling, sniffling, gnashing his teeth, and 
swearing with the full volume of his profane vocabulary, 
clenching his fists and striking the wall. Hackles lingered 
on the stairs until the paroxysm passed, and then, with lower- 
ing countenance, he went out through th^ saloon. He looked 
so ugly as he passed, that Jack, cognizant of the boy’s align- 
ment with Bess as against himself, tossed him a quarter as 
a peace-offering. Hackles caught the coin with no show of 
conciliation, but such is the ‘‘elasticity of youth,” even 
among the offspring of poverty, neglect and crime, that a 
half-hour later the boy was in the animated lead of a party 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 


123 


of his kind bound for the docks to steal the clothing and 
dinners of the workmen. 

Observing after a little time that her patient was falling 
into a promising ‘ slumber ’Mandy ventured to go home. 

Her husband had returned during her absence and was 
at that moment in the little fence-corner which did service 
for back-yard, slaking some lime in a bucket, as is the 
process for making whitewash. 

Uncle Kube, ’Mandy’s ‘^ole man,” was a woolly-pated, 
kinky-bearded, frosted, and ebony-skinned old man for a fact. 
He was no more like the dapper and rather greasy, black 
gentleman into which the northern negro has degenerated 
than was the toga-wearing Roman of ancient time like the 
bejeweled and motley-arrayed Italian of to-day, or the 
Arcadian Greek like the curled and kilted Armenian. If 
there was anything that Rube contemned it was this very 
“ dandy dark ” and flying-coon ” condition into which he 
beheld his race sinking through the. enervating influence of 
hotel service and the. barber-shops. With his big, queer 
pantaloons pulled up as high as his shoulder-blades behind 
by his one leather suspender, his long black coat, cotton 
shirt, old felt hat and brass-rimmed spectacles. Rube was 
the living “ Essence of Old Yirginny ” as he shuffled along 
the street. He had moved into town in the baby days of 
Chicago and had suffered his share of the big Are, so that 
every native, rest assured, knew him and was glad to greet 
him. 

How d’ye do. Uncle Rube,” the little children would cry, 
darting under his nose to claim attention. 



124 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Business men would nod and say : How are you Uncle 

Kube?’^ 

Store-boys, butcher-boys, hucksters’ boys would seize 
him by the hand and shout with a great laugh, “How 
is yo’ bones, ole man?” in good natured imitation of 
him. 

Even the tough would tap his hat with his stick and con- 
descend to say : “ Hey, Eube. ” 

One man alone would give no recognition to Eube’s salu- 
tation, though they were well acquainted. This man would 
pursue with his cold eye the old negro’s passing figure and 
mutter, “ Damned thief, old fence, I hope I may put the kibosh 
on you yet.” As a kibosh is a handcuff, it may be surmised 
that this was no friendly fellow. Nor was he. He was an 
officer in plain clothes- — no officer in particular, but any one 
on the force, as all knew Eube in lights the world dreamed 
not of, and, to do the old man justice, suspected him of 
more than he was guilty, while they allowed him great gifts 
of cunning. 

Eube was thoroughly an odd-job man, and this being the 
renovating May-tide he had all the whitewashing, carpet- 
beating you could reasonably expect a stiffened old man 
to take care of. These were his harvest days, however, 
and he had the prospect of the long summer rest before 
him until winter should make it possible again to peddle 
Aunt ’Mandy’s pies and chicken sandwiches around the 
night resorts down-town. 

“ W’y ’Mandy, ben out ? ” queried Eube, looking up as 
his spouse came in through the ramshackle gate. 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 


125 


“ Yep. Larue’s beaten bis woman ag’in. Done lier aw- 
ful dis time, but she’ll pull thro’.” 

“ To’ bad, to’ bad,” sighed Kube. Bess is to’ likely a 
lookin’ woman to hab to stan’ it, but she ain’t got no kind 
of caution, no kind of caution. Say, ’Mandy, I met Jimmy 
Tracer around on de avenoo a bit ago an’ he stopped me 
an’ axed kinder peart-like who did de Finkelstein job, an’ 
w’at’s gone wid de stuff. I tole him I knowed nothin’ 
about no Finkelstein job, nor no stuff. No more does I, ez 
you know. Et’s de fust I heerd of de ole pawn man’s bad 
luck.” 

’Mandy laughed in a wise way and said as she went into 
the house, ‘‘ Ye jes tell dese fly coppers when dey bodder 
you to go ’long ’bout deir bizniss.” 

After awhile Bube took his bucket and other accoutre- 
ments and left for the day. Later a young man came up 
through the alley and entered by the gate to the Thomas 
abode. He was a hard-visa.ged, depraved looking young 
man. He pushed open the door and seeing ’Mandy within 
called out, ‘‘ Hi, there. Aunty ! ” 

‘‘ Come in, Scully,” she replied, recognizing him. 

How’s Larry ? If I can see him I’ll come in,” said he. 
Aunt ’Mandy glanced into the one other room ‘of her 
small suite and coming forth said, “ Yes, you kin see him, 
but don’t stop long an’ don’t get him excited. ” 

Scully walked directly in and seizing a chair carried it to 
the side of a bed in a corner. Upon the bed lay a youth 
of his own general appearance, no better and no worse, 
except that his frame was wasted and he gave evidence of 
pain. 


12G 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Well, Larry, liow’re you feelin’? ” inquired Scully, as lie 
lightly shook the sick boy’s hand. 

‘‘ I’m a goner,” the sufferer replied, weakly. ‘^My back’s 
broke; that awful run after the fall fixed me, God! I 
almost wish I’d a-stopped an’ got ketched, but I don’t, 
though.” 

Larry Madigan came to this painful state by a fall from a 
wall sustained one night two weeks before while escaping 
under pursuit from a factory yard where he had been steal- 
ing brass fixtures. Despite a grievous hurt he had run 
many blocks and had at last been brought to ’Mandy’s. 

I guess I’d pull through if I got to the hospital or had 
a doctor, but I can’t have neither one without bein’ give up 
to the cops. I’d die, Scully, for a fact I would, before I’d 
do another bridewell time.” 

“It’s pretty tough,” laughed Scully. ‘‘I’ve been there 
myself. But you ain’t a-goin’ ter croak or anythin’ like 
that, LaiTy lad, d’ye think ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Scully, I’m mighty much down,” Larry 
replied, feebly. “ It hurts me ter walk, but I’m glad ter see 
yer, Scully.” 

“ Don’t talk, then, old man. Keep up yer nerve. There’s 
a gang* of us cornin’ around ternight, and we’ll drop in an’ 
see you. Be good and don’t worry yourself. Bye-bye to 
you for a bit, bye-bye,” and Scully tenderly squeezed the 
thin hand extended to him and went out. 

On the outside he said to Aunt ’Mandy: “Larry’s mighty 
sick, ain’t he?” 

“Yes, chile,” replied ’Mandy, solemnly, “he’s mighty 
sick. W’y he’s fallen so weak and puny that he’s hardly 


THE DAWN OF A CRITICAL DAY. 


127 


got strength to las' him a day. He won't hah a doctah, 
because he's fraid uv gettin' cotched. I never saw a boy so 
mortal fraid uv gettin* cotched. I'd get a doctah anyhow 
but I know he'd die right off in a fit. Maybe he kin tucker 
it out, but et looks mighty unsartin." 

Well, it's too bad for Larry. He’s a likely lad. But I 
dropped around more purtikerly, " said Scully, ‘‘ to tell yer 
that some of de bucks is goin’ ter have a dance in Ginn's 
loft ternight, an' after de shindig four of us wid our ladies 
want to come 'round an’ use up a lot of nice provender 
we've got." 

‘‘ Where’s it frum ? Is it frum Appel’s store. Ef it is I 
won't handle it, 'cause deys raised so much fuss 'bout dat 
job an' air lookin' high and low an' might come right in 
yere," said 'Mandy, anxiously. 

‘‘ Now, now, now, don't get excited, aunty," the young man 
replied. It ain't from Appel's store nor from no store you 
ever heard of. It's ham, an' canned turkey, canned peaches, 
canned pineapples, sweet crackers, all sorts of jam and the 
like of that, with the labels all tore off an' fixed so’s the man 
what made it wouldn't know it It is four times as much as 
we kin eat, an’ we’ll have plenty good licker, an' all what's 
left’s yours. It is all right." 

“ I guess,” replied 'Mandy, as though consenting reluct- 
antly. “ Wat time? " 

“ Oh, about 1 o'clock. I'll bring the stuff around about 
7 an’ you kin be fixin’ it for us and be makin’ de coffee. ” 

With this the young man made off and Aunt 'Mandy 
resumed her occupation in a pious frame of mind. 


CHAPTEE XIL 


BOYAL FELLOWS. 

Larue liad paid the iceman’s bill, the brewer’s bill, and 
the sundry other bills which cut the net j)rofits of the rum 
business to a figure under gross receipts, and was ensconced 
for the morning alone behind the bar. Jerry was clatter- 
ing among his pots and dishes in the rear of the lunch- 
counter preparing for the noon “rush” in his department. 
The rain poured steadily, few customers came, and Larue, 
for w^ant of occupation, stood the greater part of the time in 
the middle of the room, with his hands folded under his 
white apron and chewing a cigar, as he contemplated the 
heav3% drab clouds that trailed on tlm oj^posite roofs. The 
business of the night past and of that to come was certainly 
calculated to supply him with sufficient mental pabulum. 

He was thus reflectively engaged when the door fairly 
burst open. Two men, closing their umbrellas as they 
came, dashed in and striking mock-tragedy attitudes 
shouted ; “ Welcome home, Charlie Ross ! ” 

“ Why, Hinckey Dink ! ” ejaculated Larue, after a mo- 
ment’s bewilderment, “ and Holy Joe ! ” 

“How are you, Jack, old boy?” both again shouted, and 
128 


ROYAL FELLOWS. 


129 


extending their hands they rushed upon him. They 
laughed long and loud and pounded Larue heartily over 
the shoulders and back, while he, in the undemonstrative- 
ness of his nature, merely smiled and permitted them to 
wring his hands. 

Hinckey Dink was the familiar alias of James McTavish, 
a short man with a Koman nose, a big mustache, and oily 
hair parted behind a lurching felt hat. Holy Joe was the 
professional name of Joseph Sawyer, a tall, thin man with 
red, tubercular face, thin Burnside whiskers, and a high hat. 

How long have you been gone ? I don’t exactly 
remember,” Larue said as soon as he had gotten behind the 
bar and produced the glasses and bottles. 

“ One year the first of next month,” said they both, still 
laughing. “ We got back this morning, and you’re the first 
old friend we struck out to find.” 

“ Well, what luck ? ” queried Larue. 

What luck ? ” they roared, leaping back, and with a 
swift glance that discovered no one about save Jerry, they 
each drew from both pockets of their trousers, large rolls of 
bank bills, which they held up for a moment and then 
buried, wdtli another burst of laughter. 

“ Well, that looks good, sure enough,’* said Larue. 

How did you do it.” 

‘‘ W e’ll tell you,” they replied together, and tossing off 
the greeting bumpers with a great collision of glasses, they 
drew close together at the lower end of the bar. 

Now, to take the lead in our story and to make sure that 
our friend Joe don’t lose his proj)er credit, I want to read 


130 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


the official record of our first little scheme/' said McTavish, 
and producing a newspaper clipping from his pocket he con- 
tinued: ‘‘ This is from the Grangerville, Indiana, Gazette, 
and 111 read it. ” 

They bent their heads closer together and McTavish read 
softly: 

‘‘ The Gazette warns the people of Grange County to 
beware of the pretense of any stranger, no matter how 
plausible he appears, who may come into their midst, for 
there can be no limit to the cunning of the person who this 
week perpetrated upon Mr. Abraham G. Dross of Tecumseh 
Township the gigantic swindle it pains us to record herewith. 
Mr. Dross is known as one of the most substantial farmers 
of this county, and is a man of exceptional thrift. It is also 
known that it has been a peculiarity of his, ever since the 
failure of the State bank of Grangerville, in 1865, to avoid 
all institutions of loan and deposit and to keep all his sav- 
ings at all times under his personal care. Thus, when a 
man of his notable circumspection falls before the "craftj^ 
designs of the swindler and confidence man, it behooves all 
persons to look out. Last Monday morning a lean and 
hungry looking tramp came to Mr. Dross’ door, and, being 
denied any food or alms, stated that he had the night previous 
slept under the old blasted and limbless poplar in Mr. 
Dross’ millet field and dreamed that there was money in 
the hollow at the top. He begged that he might chop the 
old skag down, but Mr. Dross drove him away. On the 
next morning and the morning after that the tramp appeared 
with the same story, and again besought Mr. Dross that he 


ROYAL FELLOWS. 


131 


might fell the tree. Considering the fellow a harmless 
crank, and rather desiring the tree out of the way, Mr. 
Dross consented, and, providing the tramp with an axe, set 
him to work and looked on. After an hour’s hard work, in 
which the tramp showed poor knowledge of the uses of an 
axe, the tree fell, and what was Mr. Dross’ surprise to 
behold rolling from the riven top of the skag a great hoard 
of silver coin. Counting them with the tramp Mr. Dross 
discovered that there were just 12,000 Mexican silver dollars, 
mostly of old date. It may be considered that Mr. Dross 
acted unwisely on principle, as the discovery should have 
been published with a view of establishing the proper 
claimant, but he decided to divide it entirely with the tramp. 
Gunnysacks were procured, and as each weighed about 
fifty pounds, the tramp complained that he could not safely 
get through the country with such a burden. After con^ 
siderable bargaining Mr. Dross agreed to give the tramp 
$5,000 in greenbacks for his share, and as Mr. Dross had the 
money in the house the deal was consummated at once. The 
tramp left and will doubtless never be seen again, for the 
next day, which was Thursday, Mr. Dross, growing 
suspicious, took the two bags of coin to the Farmer’s Trust 
Bank here, when Cashier Harris discovered that eveiy 
dollar of it was counterfeit. Mr, Dross describes the swindler 
as a tall, thin, red-faced, dark-haired man, with the most 
ragged clothes, and the description has been sent to all 
points by Sheriff Martin.” 

Well, that beats my time ! ” ejaculated Larue, whose 
astonishment was unfeigned. ‘'How did you get on to 
that ? ” 


132 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


'‘‘Our old friend Joe, right here, just made it out of his 
head,” laughed McTavish, “ and, after all, it was just as easy 
as A B C. ril tell you about it. You see we went from 
here to Indianapolis and there we met Lem Maxwell. 
Well, Lem, as yoti know, has got more useful properties 
than any man in America, and we went up to his place and 
there we saw this coin. He and Birdie McCann made it 
ten years ago, when Mexican dollars were plenty on the 
market, and they were just ready to go south with it, when 
the pneumonia took off Birdie and three years for a job in a 
small Hoosier town settled Lem. When he got out Mexican 
dollars had gone out of circulation, and he’s had this load 
of queer on his hands ever since. He said that it cost a 
hundred to make at the time, but that he would give it to 
me and Joe for forty dollars. We had no use for it until, 
about three nights later when we were in bed, this scheme 
popped into Joe’s head. Well, we decided to try Grange 
County, and I went down to Grangerville and pretended that 
I had a scheme to boom real estate around there. I talked 
free and got on to the record of this old guy, Dross. I 
sized up the place by one drive past it and spotted the old 
tree. I then called Joe down from Indianapolis and he 
came along with the stuff in a box of cheap plow shares. 
That night we sneaked out to Dross’ place in a wagon, got 
up the skag with telegraph climbers, chopped a big enough 
hollow in the top, and dumped in the coin. Then I came 
back to town and Joe lived in the bush till the. job was done. 
I stayed around the town a week after, howling about the 
scandalous swindle as loud as anybody. Then I went 


ROYAL FELLOWS. 


133 


down to Louisville, promising to be back presently with 
money enough to buy all the corner lots in Grangerville, 
and met Joe who was none the worse for wear.'’ 

For some minutes Larue buried his face in his hands and 
laughed silently, as the daring plot unfolded to his mind. 
As McTavish concluded he raised his head and said, with a 
sweep of his hand and more emphasis than was common 
with him: Boys, I give you the belt. That’s the best job 
I ever heard of. It’s only a few times that I’ve seen so 
much money turned and I’m sure the trick was never 
beaten in cleverness. But go on, Mac. What did you do 
next?” 

“No; you tell the yarn. You’ve got a better knack of 
tongue than I have,” laughed Joe, as McTavish desired to 
yield him place as the narrator. 

“ Well,” resumed McTavish, “ in a week we went to Cin- 
cinnati, and there we laid around for a few days on the top 
shelf, you bet. . But as it wasn’t the right season to loaf, we 
fixed to get a lightning-rod outfit and some of those prom- 
issory-note contracts that you tear in two, you know, like 
Gentleman Davis got up several years ago, when it was 
my turn all of a sudden to think of a scheme. Joe fell to 
it like a mice, and we got up a great game of talk which 
we we're to use on system. And right here let me say that 
Joe — that’s right, blush, you shy, young thing — has got the 
gift of gab to beat any man I ever run across. Why, he’d 
talk the gold off a rolled plate collar-button. Well, 
here’s the result of my ' projicting,’ as the niggers 
say,” drawing out a^other small newspaper clipping, he 






134 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

proceeded: ‘‘This is from the Stubblefield Banner of Stub- 
blefield, 0.” 

As before, McTavish read in an undertone to his closely 
attentive auditors: 

“ Fairfax County can contribute an experience costly to a 
number of its farmers, during the past week, by which the 
entire rural section of the state can take warning. The 
apparently inexhaustible resource of expedient possessed by 
those men who flash like meteoric visitations through some 
country-side, despoiling the peaceful and hard-living farmer, 
sickens the mind, while their invariable escape from punish- 
ment rankles the soul with baffled rage. Whence they 
come and whither they go is one of the mysteries of the 
age. The lair of the confidence man and the cave 
where the winds are born are equally matters of wild 
conjecture.’* 

McTavish paused in his reading to vent his merriment, 
while the others laughed with him. 

“ The fellow that wrote that must have been riled, sure. 
Go on, Fm set to know what you ducks did to put him on 
such a high-daddy,” said Larue. 

“ What makes me laugh is to think what those country 
folks would say if they could run this lair down to an honest 
little joint like this. Ill bet they have an idea that we live 
in a place full of cog-wheels and clock-works, figuring, with 
the devils help, on new jobs to hoodwink the earth. Fve 
a mind to write a book some day, and call it ‘ The Con 
Man as He Is ; or. Every Man His Own Dead-Beat,* and 
prove in it how simple the art of faking for a living is. 


ROYAL FELLOWS. 


135 


But that ain’t reading the stor}^” said McTavish, and he 
returned to the clipping: 

Two weeks ago last Thursday a tall, well-dressed man, 
with a smooth, red face and polished manners, drove up in a 
fine buggy to Adam Fordham’s farm on the Running Water, 
in Cherry Township, and made to Mr. Fordham a brisk and 
business-like offer to buy his eighty acres of upper wooded 
land. At forty dollars an acre the land was worth $3,200, 
but the stranger, who gave the name of Wainwright, said 
that he would give $4,000 off-hand for it, as he wanted it 
immediately to get out stave timber. Fordham agreed, and 
Wainwright deposited $100 to clinch the bargain, and went 
away promising to be back that day a week with the cash 
and receive the deed. Sure enough, last Thursday, bright 
and early, Wainwright returned with his buggy and elegant 
roadsters. He had barely stepped down, and was hitching 
his horses, when a road wagon with a spanking team dashed 
up from the op>posite direction. A short man, with a big, 
waxed mustache, and chin whiskers, and the fatique uniform 
of an army officer, jumped down from the wagon and, walk- 
ing briskly up to the gate, inquired for Mr. Fordham. 
Being told that he was addressing Mr. Fordham the putative 
soldier said that he was Major Fife from Columbus 
Barracks, and being about to retire from the army, he was 
looking for a site for a country seat, and had heard that Mr. 
Fordham had some upper woodland on the market. Mr. 
Fordham protested, but the Major insisted that he be led 
over the farm, and Mr. Wainwright consenting to wait in 
the house, the farmer set forth to the woods with the Major. 


13G 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


There seemed to be no acquaintance whatever between Mr. 
Wainwright and Major Fife, and, indeed, during the course 
of the conversation, the former made some disparaging 
remark which the latter took up with offense, and high 
words were averted only by Mr. Fordham’s interposition. 
The Major went into ecstasies over the wooded piece, and 
upon being told, as before, that it w^as useless to ask for it 
on account of the contract with Mr. Wainwright, the Major 
offered $5,000 for it, spot cash, and counted half the amount 
out of his pocket. On returning to the house Mr. Fordham 
stated the Major’s offer to Mr. Wainwright, who, after some 
talk, agreed to sell his claim for $400, equivalent to $300, 
and the return of his deposit. Mr. Fordham ran out and 
told this to the Major, who seemed highly delighted, and 
jumping into his wagon whipped off on a little drive down 
the orchard lane, just to look at the growing fruit, as he 
said, for a minute until Wainwright had been disposed of. 
Mr. Fordham at once gave his check to Wainwright, who 
with hearty farewells took his departure. Waiting an hour 
for the Major’s return, Mr. Fordham strolled out to the 
orchard, and to his surprise discovered several panels dowm 
in the fences between the lane and the turniDike, and the 
fresh trail of a road wagon cut through the fields. In 
about another hour he awoke to the full realization of the 
fact that he would never see either Wainwright or the 
Major again and that he was robbed of $300. Not the least 
daring feature of the case is that four farmers living at 
intervals of five miles along the Emmettville road, due west 
from Fordham’s, were successively visited by these fellows 


ROYAL FELLOWS. 


137 


in precisely tlie same manner as above related, and in every 
instance, without the slightest hitch, they secured the $300, 
which seemed their standard figure. Before 3 o’clock in 
the afternoon they were in Stubblefield, where they cashed 
their checks and whence all trace of them is lost. They are 
doubtless safely over the Indiana line.'’ 

Then there’s the names of the farmers we touched and 
along story upon some protective association they’ve got up 
to hang all smooth strangers in the future,” said McTavish, 
concluding the reading. 

‘‘ I’ve got nothing to say, boys,” remarked Larue, stretch- 
ing himself. All that’s ’way beyond my reach, but I’d like 
to know why you got those newspapers ? ” 

‘'Why to find out if the victims were squealing and to see 
whether the process was written up. When it’s printed, you 
see, it keeps us out of that range of sand hills and makes the 
whole business pretty dangerous to handle anywhere for a 
while,” explained McTavish. 

“ And say, Hiuckey Dink, do you carry those bits of news- 
paper around in your pocket?” queried Larue. 

“ Cert. Why not.” 

“ Nothing, only if I was a copper and had occasion to run 
you in for anything I’d wonder what a mark like you cared 
about such stories. I might call up Grangerville or Stubble- 
field and ask for close descriptions. I might bring one of 
the suckers over to look at you. Now, putting it flat, sup- 
pose some unfriendly fellow who knew you in Cincinnati, or 
Indianapolis, or whatever burg you struck next, or even 
here to-day, which is a likely happening, should run you in 


138 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


for a vag or for anything. He’d have found these clippings 
in your clothes^ He’d have thought about it sure. To get 
papers from these little towns you were likely there, and if 
there about the time such a job was done — well, it would be 
worth looking into.” 

McTavish stared reflectively at Sawyer and Sawyer beamed 
wistfully upon McTavish. They laughed a thin frightened 
laugh, and Joe remarked merely : “Tear ‘em up, Mac, 
tear ‘em up.” 

Hinckey Dink slowly tore the clippings into fine bits and 
committed the particles to a spittoon. 

Larue laughed a harsh guffaw, and, striking the bar heavily, 
exclaimed : By God, it beats all how the cleverest rascal 

will leave the bars down somewhere. Pards,” and leaning 
over and dropping his voice said with emotion, “ little things 
like that scare me. I’m losing my nerve. I’ve got only one 
more job to which I’m promised, and when that’s done I’ll 
sell this hole, move to the end of creation, and live honest. ” 

At this moment the door, which since the advent of 
McTavish and Sawyer had offered merely a target for the 
slanting shafts of rain, opened and . a tall, gray gentlemen 
with a grim, shaven face strode in. It was Jarvis. 

“This way, if you please, sir,” Larue addressed him, 
stepping promptly forward and waving his hand toward the 
rear. Jarvis proceeded without a word. Larue, turning to 
Jerry, said, “Mind the bar,” and with Jarvis entered the 
farthest stall, closing and locking the door. 

The confidence men followed the two with their eyes, 
and turning to each other drew a long whistle. The 


ROYAL E:ELL0WS. 


139 


distinguished appearance of Jack’s friend was a puzzle to 
them. A boy entered. It was Hackles. 

“Hold on, young fellow, where are you going? ” demanded 
McTavish, seizing the boy with playful rudeness. 

Aw, come off; will you ? ” snarled the boy, writhing in 
his grasp. 

‘‘What are you doing here?” now sternly demanded 
McTavish. 

“I live here,” said Hackles. 

“ That’s Larue’s kid,” interposed Sawyer. 

“So it is — so it is,” exclaimed the other, releasing 
the boy. “You’ve grown, young man. You used to 
be a pretty hard lot as much as a year ago. Have you 
improved any ? How often have you ridden in the yellow 
gal (as Chicago’s black maria is often termed) since I saw 
you last ? What, nary a time ? Say, are you much of a 
dipper ? ” 

“ I guess I am,” replied Hackles, grinning. 

“ Well, then, Joe and me will give you fifty cents apiece if 
you touch that old fellow’s leather, who’s back there now 
with Jack, when he comes out.’ 

“ Never mind. Don’t get him to do it. It may raise a 
row, and we don’t need it,” Sawyer protested. 

“Oh, yes; just for fun. I want to try the kid,” urged 
McTavish. “Now, my fine fellow, here’s the way we’ll work 
it. You get outside and Joe and I will stand at the door, 
just leaving him barely room to get out. As he steps out 
you step in, crowding past him. There’s your chance. Do 
you catch? 





140 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

“I catch,’’ replied Hackles, confidently. Now where’s yer 
halvers ? ” 

You’ll get them all right enough. Now get ready and 
mind your eyes.” 

Hackles went out and stood at the side of the step. 
McTavish and Sawyer, the latter with reluctant good humor 
concurring in the project, took their stations at the door on 
the inside. It was as much as a quarter of an hour before 
the stall opened. Jarvis and Larue emerged and walked 
together as far as the narrow avenue leading behind the bar, 
into which Larue turned, remarking in tones not so low as 
to be inaudible: I’ll not forget it, sir. To-morrow.” 

Jarvis strode on. At the door he w^as given but scant 
passage by the two men, and in stepping out Hackles, act- 
ing on his cue, crowded by him. There was a moment’s 
stoppage of the 2^1’ogress of both. The man scowled, 
re-adjusted his disordered coat, and, raising his umbrella, 
moved up the street. The boy dropped down and rolled 
into the saloon. 

‘‘ I got there, you bet,” he cried, as soon as the door was 
closed. But goody goodness, dat’s de feller w’at I had 
his hired man pinched.” 

‘'What’s all this about?” demanded Larue, stepping 
forward. 

“Why, your dutiful son. has touched your old friend’s 
leather,” laughed McTavish, pointing to a red Eussia 
pocket-book in Hackles’ hand. 

“ Give it to me,” said Larue, sternly. 

Hackles obeyed, and Larue, dropping the pocket-book 


ROYAJL FELLOWS. 


141 


into liis pocket, gave the boy a long and peculiar look and 
turned away. 

Hinckey Dink and Holy Joe never omitted mention of 
Jack's look and the queer play of his eyes resting fixedly on 
the boy, when, with the light of subsequent events, they 
told the story. 





CHAPTEK XIII. 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 

Between the stroke of midnight and the break of day lie 
the canonical hours of crime. Darkness and the slumber of 
the world palpably commend this period to the agents of 
evil purposes. Erom the earliest day of recorded time the 
ethics of dark trades have sealed and authorized these 
hours. Solomon, in his wisdom, penned his cognizance of 
the fact. It was ancient even in his day. 

Nature sounds her last summons, prolonged and sonorous, 
at 12 o’clock of the night. There are twelve strokes and 
the bells utter their peals with unusual distinctness. The 
attention rests upon the proclamation of this hour as upon 
no other in the sweep of the day. Belated men pause upon 
the time to say, with awe or recklessness, as meets their 
spirit, ‘‘It is midnight.” Beyond midnight pleasure is a 
revelry and revelry sinks to debauch; labor is slavery and 
slavery is a crime. To the degrees of crime there is the 
student’s self-consumption and the thief’s quest of prey. 
And when the weather is foul, crime rests an especial 
sanction upon this sombre season. 

Larue, then, had little to question in outer conditions, as 
142 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


143 


it fell evening, for the night of that wretched day was 
setting in with unabated inclemency. He had been out a 
great part of the afternoon and had just descended from 
a short but important session with Bess. He had found 
her sitting up, somewhat restored in strength, but still 
disfigured and suffering. She was in a surly and unreason- 
ing temper, as never before with Larue, and it at once 
became his malignant pleasure to shake and browbeat her 
into a state of attention to what he had to say. He 
spoke with solemnity and once or twice with a quaver 
of real feeling, for which he instantly atoned with a volley 
of curses. He' told her the business of the night and more. 
He adverted repeatedly to the magnitude and uncertainty 
of the task before him, and, failing to draw one word of 
gesture of heed or sympathy, he flew into a towering 
passion. Bess had sat leaning from him, so shielding her 
face with her arm, as though in constant apprehension of 
assault, that nothing of her muffled countenance could be 
seen. In the violence of his passion he jerked her from the 
chair, bore down her hands, tore the bandage from her face 
and yelled: Don’t put on any airs with me, or by heaven 
I’ll grind you to pulp. Don’t you see that I’m remember- 
ing your interests ? Don’t you feel that I am doing more 
for you than I would for any woipan on earth ? Ain’t you 
got any heart? Why can’t you say something? Do you 
want me to give you last night’s dose again ? Look at me ! 
look at me ! ” 

With her bruised, pale countenance and set lips Bess 
obeyed and looked at him with the whol^ force of her one 


144 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


open eye. There was neither the fear nor sympathy he 
invoked in her gaze, but her eye was turned upon him with 
a steady, unwavering precision that surprised, half-frightened 
him. Flinging her from him he seized some articles he 
had set out from the wardrobe and rushed from the 
room. 

The suspicion he slightly felt that he had gone too far, 
that he was losing his supreme control of her, would have 
waxed to apprehension if he had seen her, ere his feet 
reached the foot of the stairs, leap from the floor and fling 
herself with clutching fingers and frothing lips upon the 
door he had just closed behind him. 

The early hours of the night passed in the saloon as a 
thousand such before. A fire was kindled in the stove, for 
although the month was May the wind blew bleak and the 
rain was chilly. The familiar rabble, as at other times, 
trooped in and out, alternating between the stove and the 
bar, steaming its collective garments and vulcanizing its 
individual systems against further exposure. 

Then it came midnight and the last sodden loiterer was 
forcibly excluded. 

Once, 3"ears ago, a certain Herman Fink maintained on 
the “West side” a cheap lodging-house and doggery. It 
was so famous a resort for homeless drunkards and ruffians 
of mean wits that the name of the host and house fastened 
upon the class and to this day the Chicago police apply 
the word “fink” to that low character commonly termed 
“ a bum.” Thus the finks or bums, among the last to heed 
Larue’s warning of the hour, tumbled out into the wet, 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


145 


and grouping for a moment on the walk in hoarse and 
hiccoughing discourse, drifted asunder and away. 

Larue locked the door, accounted his receipts of the 
day, noting the result in a small blank-book, and thrust 
the paper money into his pocket. He then extinguished 
the lights in the saloon, save one low jet over the bar, and 
went back to the farthest stall, to which allusion has been 
made hitherto. Disclosed within by the tiny flame of a 
dark-lantern lamp, removed from its casing, sat Minton, 
‘‘ the scout,’' who at some time earlier in the evening had 
entered all unperceived. He made no remark, but resorted 
to a bottle which sat at his side on the table, as Larue 
came in. The latter was equally taciturn and stopping in 
a corner tumbled over a pile of articles recent] y laid there 
and drew forth a strong canvas bag. From this he took, 
one after the other, and set upon the table, a short-handled 
but heavy sledge, a small bellows, a powder can, a coil of 
fuse, a considerable length of rope, a ball of twine and some 
pieces of thick cloth. Seating himself at the table he began 
to examine these articles, followed in every movement by 
the scout’s attentive gaze. Satisfied, evidently, with his 
inspection, Larue bound the cloths with the twine about the 
head of the hammer and restored all the articles to the bag. 
Eesorting to the pile again he took up and donned, in order, 
a pair of rubber boots, a thick pea jacket with a wide collar 
which turned up high around his neck and face, and a skull 
cap. Thus arrayed he burst on the sight so properly in his 
character that the scout was struck with it and grinned. 

What tickles you ? ” demanded Larue, sharply. 


146 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Nothin’, only I was thinkin’ that you look about as much 
of a gentleman in that rig as I do. But say, how long before 
we get a start on ? ” 

A minute or so — aye, there’s our party,” and a noise at 
the rear door caught their ears. 

Larue slipped out and in a moment returned, accompan- 
ied by a tall man in a big overcoat and a low-vizored cap, 
who seemed to seek a disguise by burying his chin in the 
folds of some red flannels wrapped around his neck. Nothing 
of his countenance was revealed in the feeble light. 

Scout, this is our friend, Charley Ox,” said Larue. 

Minton flushed angrily, and the suspicious scrutiny with 
which he had regarded the stranger was now touched with 
hostility. Charley Ox ” is to the thief as equivocal as ‘‘ Mr. 
Jones/’ or “ Mr. Smith ” to you, gentle reader, or “ John Doe” 
to a policeman, and he who presents hims^elf to co-operate 
in an important enterprise with a masquerade in his dress and 
a subterfuge in his name is "fairly to be suspected. 

“ Oh, your name is Charley Ox, is it, eh ? ” sneered the 
scout. V/ell, sir, Charley Ox is a chestnut too old and 
wormy for me to swaller, an’ unless you lift that cap, pull 
down them rags, flash your face full into this light and hand 
out a better name, you quit or I quit, d’ye mind ? ” 

Larue gave the alleged Mr. Ox no opportunity to rejDly, 
for seizing the scout by the throat he forced him into a 
chair, roaring under his breath: “Quick, quick. Come tell. 
Whose running this thing, you or me? Sj^it it out right 
here before we budge another peg.” 

The scout struggled a moment, his hand instinctively 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM 


147 


seeking his pocket, at which he suddenly checked himself, 
and, extending both palms, exclaimed hurriedly: “It's all 
right, Jack, I forgot. Only^ it's the first job I ever tackled 
where I didn’t know my friends. But I’m with you and I’ll 
say no more." 

“ Mind you don't," said Larue, sternly, releasing his 
grasp. “ Now lend a hand." 

The pile in the corner was resolved into a number of 
blankets and the bag. The trio lifted these and softly filed 
out, Larue in the rear, locking the doors behind. In the 
alley stood a horse and wagon, brought there by Ox. Larue 
mounted to the seat, and the scout, clambering in over the 
tail-piece, stretched himself at full length in the bed and 
covered his form with the blankets. 

Larue whispered to Ox: “It's clear to you, is it? You 
meet us on the northeast corner if the “ collar ” is close 
and we pass on. If he is at the other end of his beat or 
somewhere off, why we don't see you and drive straight in." 

“ I understand," replied Ox, and he disappeared north- 
ward. 

Larue drove out of the alley by the opposite direction 
and turned eastward to the lake-front boulevard, into which 
he swung and jogged north. If he was observed it was only 
to excite the observer to a sense of the dismal figure cut by 
a belated expressman. It rained at this time with increased 
violence, and the wind, hard from the t ambling lake, drove 
the shower in headlong charges and swept up from the 
pavements and down from the reeking roofs a spray which 
filled the air and through which the street lamps shone 


148 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


with a faint, nebulous glow. A turn and still another 
brought Larue to the appointed spot, and with no sight of 
Ox he drove abruptly into an alley in the middle depth of 
which he stopped. He rested and hearkened. The night 
and the storm seemed to concentrate here. The darkness 
was utter; the horse at his feet, the w’agon behind, the 
buildings at his side, and the sky above were invisible to 
Larue. The wind plunged through the narrow way with 
remitting shrieks and the rain fell in floods. 

Satisfied with his observations he iroused the scout from 
beneath the soaking blankets, and both gro23ed their way to 
the buildings on the right, leading the horse. 

‘‘ Here we are/’ whisj^ered Larue, and he halted, with his 
hand brushing tentatively over the iron shutters which 
sealed a lower-floor window in one of the buildings. From 
his pocket he drew a pair of steel calipers, with which he 
described, in the centre of one panel of the shutter and as 
high as his breast, a circle fifteen inches in circumference. 
The points were sharp and the periphery of the circle 
furrowed through the paint was plainly traceable by touch. 

Now your drill,” he called to the scout, who produced 
the little instrument we have seen successfully tested. Our 
presence at the experiment obviates a close scrutiny of the 
next half-hour’s work, nor would we care to thrust our hand 
out in such a night to feel the groping course of the drill 
about the circle. Jack and the scout alternated, and thirty 
minutes had admitted the former’s arm; the inner bolts were 
drawn and the shutters were open. The men peered in 
cautiously at first. It was a jewelry store. The shelves 


j 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


149 


were loaded with clocks, mantel objects, bronzes, and plated 
ware, but the plush cushioned show-cases were divested of 
the costly wares exposed there by day. So much was dis- 
cernible by the light of the jets blazing at the front and 
rear of the store. The operations of the next few minutes 
were really critical. Although there was no one within, the 
two men were plainly visible to any one on the outer front 
who had closely explored the interior. But the down- 
streaming rivulets and cross-playing splashes of rain 
hindered vision and the chance of detection from this source 
was very slim. 

Minton took occasion here to say, ‘‘ Kin I ask if Charley 
Ox is on watch? 

He's all right and youll hear from him soon enough if 
there's cause to," returned Larue, and then with a sharp 
glazier’s knife he began swift operations upon the wundow. 
There were four panes to the sash and he selected the upper 
left-hand pane of the lower sash. With a practiced hand he 
cut away the putty sealing, pried up one side of the glass, 
and took out the pane entire, setting it carefully on the 
ground some feet aside. Then, reaching through the sash, 
he slipped the bolt and noislessly raised the window. After 
another pause and reconnoitre he climbed over the sill and, 
running to the middle of the room, turned out the rear light. 
Bearing the canvas bag, which he had been shielding from 
wet as much as possible, the scout followed. There was 
enough light forward to avert suspicion, but the rear was 
now cast in an impenetrable gloom. Turning with a direct- 
ness that proved pre-knowledge, Larue approached a large 


150 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

safe which stood shielded from observation by the office rail. 
The scout crept in close succession and handed his lantern 
to Jack, who liberated from it the merest ooze of light, with 
which he closely inspected the surface of the safe. Marking, 
at last, a spot half-way within the narrow space between the 
combination dial and the bolt-knob. Jack set the drill-point 
and began to bore. Steadily and with a light, rasping noise 
the incisive tool sunk through the heavy door until a slight 
lurch forward told Larue the work was done. Selecting 
then a chilled-steel punch from a parcel of instruments the 
scout spread out, he passed it in at the hole until it touched 
the bar of the bolt. Minton, meanwhile, sledge in hand, 
squared himself at one side. Larue held the punch firmly; 
Minton measured his stroke, and with a swift and sweeping* 
swing brought the muffled head of the sledge squarely upon 
the mark. So sound was the safe, so unyielding the bar, 
that there was no noise and scarcely a jar, while the punch, 
still in Jack’s hand, recoiled from the hole. 

‘‘ That settles it,” remarked Larue. ‘‘That lock can’t be 
knocked-offi This job’s got to be gophered.” 

“ You’re right,” assented Minton. 

Then, while Larue drilled anew and near the centre of 
the door, the other brought out the powder-can and dili- 
gently filled the bellows from it. 

Jack’s was a tedious task this time for he encountered a 
seemingly endless array of plates, and all of the several bits 
were worn to the verge of useless dulness ere he was 
through. At last he fell back with a long breath of relief 
and a word of commendation for the scout’s thorough 
implements. 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


151 


‘'Give me the blower and the can and you fetch the 
blankets/' Larue said, and with the bellows he rapidly 
injected the gunpowder into the safe, where it fell between 
the outer casing and the inner door, until the quart contents 
of the canister were exhausted. 

‘'That will do,” said he then, arising. Now for the 
clothes.” 

With all the dispatch they could the two' proceeded to 
envelop the safe with the blankets, binding them with the 
rope until the mammoth iron crypt stood swathed entire. 
Larue again dropped to his knees, cut a hole through the 
blankets so that the perforation in the door was exposed, 
and measuring off eight feet of the fuse he thrust it in until 
he felt the further end stirring amid the powder. 

“Now get out and spy a bit. Tm allowing for just two 
minutes,” he said under his breath. 

The scout decamped with alacrity, Larue following as 
far as the window. A moment's hearkening to which the 
storm alone gave answer brought the whispered word from 
the scout; “ Nothing wrong.” 

Larue retraced his steps, studying minutely the ‘^lay” of 
the short interval between the office and the window to avoid 
all obstructions in his impending exit. He struck a match 
and stooped. There was a flash and a hiss and Larue 
leaped swiftly toward the window as the fuse began to melt 
in a tiny, sputtering spray of sparks. He was out at the 
window in a moment and standing at the horse's head, 
holding the bit and stroking its nose. 

A blast more furious than its fellows in the seemingly 


152 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


abating storm swooped with a shriek into the alley, and on 
the instant a prolonged, dull, and double-bass ^‘boom” 
broke on the night — a sound so profound that its vibra- 
tions communicated to the walls and the very earth, yet 
again so muffled and undefined that it was as much a 
tremor as a sound. The horse did not even prick his 
ears. 

There she blows,” said the scout, under his breath. 

And a good one, too. I wonder whether Ox heard. 
Wait ! ” replied Larue. 

They stood there for full five minutes until satisfied that 
none had been nntowardly aroused. Then they re-entered 
the store. The smoke was still ebbing through the texture 
of the blankets, and these they hastily removed. The safe’s 
strong armor was racked and riven. The outer door was 
split from top to bottom so that the parts were easily lifted 
down. The inner doors were sprung inward and the bolts 
shattered. Without delay they drew them back and 
unfolded the interior. The soul of hungry greed stood 
avowed in the eyes of the burglars at the disclosure. Piled 
upon each other, stored on shelves and hoarded in j)igeon- 
holes, were jewels, gold and silver, wrought in all fashions 
of precious ware; watches, bracelets, charms, necklaces, 
brooches, rings, packets of uncut gems, the contributions of 
Eldorado and the caverned seas, in one bewildering 
treasury. A nervous haste lent itself now to the movements 
of the burglars. 

“ Spread out a blanket,” ordered Larue. 

The scout did so, and suggested anxiously: ‘‘Hadn’t we 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


153 


better load up our pockets with the loose things and some 
of these papers of sparks. ” 

‘‘ No, sir,” retorted Larue, hotly. ‘‘ Ox has got to be sure 
of a square divvy in this business. Bundle ’em in.” 

One blanket was filled and knotted up, the booty being 
packed in a promiscuous mass. The remaining articles were 
tumbled into a second blanket ; the safe was emptied, and, 
each making a burden, the men crept out. Larue was the 
first to the ground and threw the lighter parcel which he 
carried into the wagon. He paused to listen. Nothing 
but the storm. The scout, puffing and tugging with his 
harder task, clamored through the window. Larue stooped 
to help him with the load, when both started at full height 
and were riveted to attention by a sound. Although clear 
and well defined, it was not a sound to arouse the simple 
citizen on such a night. The householder or tardy way- 
farer would have accepted it as. a sob of the blast, some new 
variation in the moaning of the wind. It was distinct, 
soprano-like, and sustained, yet quavering on the breaths 
of air, diminishing and dying away mournfully like the 
howl of the gray wolf or the cry of the chouan. It, how- 
ever, bound the two burglars in the chains of heed and 
apprehension, bated and painful. It was the warning word 
‘‘ Cheroo,” uttered so as to mingle with the noise of the 
night. 

“ That’s Ox ! What’s up ? Quick ! ” whispered Larue, and 
with the scout’s obedient aid he flung the bundle into the 
wagon and halted again with eye and ear alert. 

The storm ; no more. The wind, the rain and the dark-* 



154 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 




ness of the early morning hour, no other sight or soun 1. 
A minute thus passed — a minute of high pulse and tense 
nerves for the burglars — when at the north end of the alley 
a figure appeared. It was a man silhouetted against the 
glowing haze about the lamp-post. He was deliberate of 
manner and paused. The light, as he turned, touched with 
keen effect a helmet wreath, a star upon his breast, and 
parallel rows of buttons down his front. He was a police 
officer. 

Of all fatalities, the patient horse at this moment shook 
his wet sides with a great rattle of harness and pawed the 
puddling mire in which he stood. 

Larue and the scout, muttering simultaneous oaths of 
restraint at the animal, crouched against the wagon. The 
noise attracted the officer and he advanced into the alley, 
shading his eyes with his hand, stooping and studying the 
black vista before him intently. This policeman’s fate was 
his courage and his sense of duty, for he determined to 
explore the alley. One patrolman in a hundred, not more, 
will behave so under similar circumstances. An ominous 
noise of a foul night in a gloomy defile between big build- 
ings, alone, with absolutely all the disadvantages of 
observation and defense, who will accept the inquest ? 

The scout crawled around the wagon, crouched, and 
whispered through the wheels to Larue : “ What’ll we do ? 
I’ve got my knife.” 

The cocking of a pistol was the sole repty, and in wild 
anxiety he sought to protest, ‘‘Your knife,” he hoarsely 
whispered. He dared no more. The officer, then too close, 


IN DARKNESS AND STORM. 


155 


walked up and, leaning over the end of the wagon, stirred 
the blankets with his club, sayingaloud: Well, well, what's 
this here ? " 

“ That, you fool.” 

With the words there came a flash and a report. Larue 
had leaped from cover and was poised, leaning forward with 
pistol leveled. A billow of white smoke rose sloWly, was 
caught by the wind and dissipated. 

The officer reeled, clutched his breast, sighed heavily, and 
like a toppling column, fell at full length in the mud. The 
pistol shot rang with a babel of echoes amid the buildings 
and into the streets, out-vying the storm. Whom did it 
arouse? The scout at least would not wait to see. He 
sprang from his crouching posture with the ejaculation, 
God Almighty ! You've done it now. Cut for it.” 

There was disgust, anger and despair in his tone. Larue 
ordered him peremptorily to halt and leaped a stride or two 
in pursuit. A shrill whistle and blows of a club on a lamp- 
post were heard. Larue ran back and endeavored to climb 
to the seat of the wagon. The horse reared and plunged 
with fright. The whistle was repeated, much closer than 
before, and answered from a number of directions. A 
shuffle and tramp of feet were distinguished and two men 
ran into the alley from the north, as the officer had entered. 
A panic seized Larue; he dropped to the ground, caught the 
horse by the head and tried to drag it forward. The 
frightened animal only plunged the more. There was no 
other recourse and Larue fled at the top of his speed. 

Out goes your worthy lamp, Tom Chase, my boy, as you 


156 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


lie on your face in that black alley, suffocating with blood 
and mire. Gone is your manly presence from the ranks of 
duty ; all your affairs of life summarily terminated; the red 
vomit chokes you and your limbs tremulously extend and 
are still. 


CHAPTER XrV. 


THE DRAG-NET. 

The two men whose approach had been the last straw ” 
to Larue's courage, amid the wild events in which his plans 
collapsed, were a police officer and a citizen. Jack's fleeing 
figure was faintly visible and upon it the policeman emptied 
the five barrels of his pistol without effect. The citizen just 
then stumbled over some object and fell down. The officer 
ran through the alley to the south end and, gaining no 

further sight of the fugitive, stopped and blew his whistle 

repeatedly. The citizen, left where he had fallen, was 

raising loud cries of terror in which the word ‘‘ Murder " 

recurred. The officer hastened back and found the citizen 
quivering with horror and backing away from an indistin- 
guishable object upon the ground. 

O, God, there's a dead man and I fell on him. Look 
officer, look,'’ he gasped. 

“The officer groped about until his foot touched the* 
body. He stooped and felt of it. Whistles were ringing 
now from every quarter and the bobbing career of a bull's- 
eye lamp through the alley told that some private watchman 
was coming. 


157 


158 





THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

‘‘ Flash down that light/' commanded the officer, as the 
watchman ran up. The man obej^ed and the three started. 

It's a policeman. Oh, my Lord," cried the citizen in 
still greater alarm. 

A look of unusual solemnity passed into the officer's 
countenance. ' He set his teeth, dropped on one knee, 
indifferent to the deep mire, and raised the prostrate, brawny 
form. Turning the body over he supported the head upon 
his arm, and with the citizen's proffered handkerchief wiped 
the muck and blood from the face of the dead. 

Tom Chase ! " groaned the big officer. ‘‘ Oh, my old 
partner ! Who's done this ? " 

Yes, yes, who's done it ? " cried the frightened citizen. 

“ How could it have happened ? I was a block away and 
heard the shot. Where did it come from ? " exclaimed the 
watchman in doubt and fear. 

“We’ll find out," rejoined the officer with sudden resolu- 
tion. “ Help me here," and he rose, lifting the body. 

Others were joining the group, policemen and citizens. 
Beady hands lent aid and the body was lifted into the 
comparative shelter of a doorway. 

“ Keep the alley clear and I'll send in the word," shouted 
the officer, and as others hastened to mount a guard at 
either end he rushed away. He ran to an adjoining corner, 
flung open the partrol-box there, swung the hand on the 
call dial, pulled down the hook, and in a second his station 
answered. 

“ Send the wagon and everybody in reach. Tell central 
and have them turn out lively. Tom Chase has been killed 


THE DRAG-NET. 


159 


on his beat/’ he shouted into the transmitter, and ere his 
last word the connections broke. 

The speed with which action followed upon his summons 
would have gratified the excited officer to behold. 

The drowsy operator was alive as by magic. He touched 
off the stable call with an explosive whirr and threw on 
the central station switch with a vigor which summarily 
roused the operator there, three blocks away. 

‘‘Lieutenant, sergeant, anybody, quick ! ” he cried at the 
same time, with such urgency of tone that the loungers in 
the ^qad-room sprang to their feet and ran in upon him. 
Through the tube he shouted directions, adding: “Wait 
for the lieutenant,” at that superior’s bidding. 

The trained horses, liberated from their stalls by the same 
weird current that awoke the gong, trotted to their places ; 
the harness fell upon them and was fast. The driver 
bounded to his seat and the three men on duty clambered 
to their places. The lieutenant, catching the word, ran up- 
stairs, where half a dozen reserves slept. In a moment be 
descended followed precipitately by these men, dressing as 
they ran. Into the wagon they went pell-mell. The lash, a 
beating of strong hoofs, a roll of heavy_ wheels, and the 
patrol was flying on the call. The central here answered 
and was apprised. 

In the dim-lighted quarters of the detectives there sat at 
that time one man alone. He wore spectacles, which 
affected his countenance with a funny mixture of benignity 
and hardness. Cajoled by the drowsy tumult without, and 
freed of all observation, he was yielding to a secret, pleasing 


160 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


bent and was reading a small volume of Irish history. His 
air was of cozy contentment, and he followed the lines with 
a movement of his lips and occasional pauses. This man 
was James Kinnane, of whom we have lost sight since leav- 
ing him day before yesterday at the Armory police court. 
To-night on the inside watch he has laid himself close to a 
light, and while the storm rages he is pursuing with patri- 
otic relish the career of Brian Boru and the wars of the 
ancient kingdoms of Ivernia. He might have been well in 
the midst of the Boy King’s most thrilling exploit when the 
operator interrupted him with the tidings we can anticipate. 

Call the wagon and the boys,” ordered Kinnane, promptly, 
as, rising, he pocketed his book and spectacles and began 
to envelo23 himself in rubbers. 

One annunciator led to expeditious movements in the 
stable of this station similar to those witnessed at the other 
patrol-house. Another touch agitated a gong in a chamber 
in a remote corner of the topmost floor of the massive 
building. One of the eight men who slept there arose and 
answered at the tube. With a loud halloo he repeated the 
order at the top of his lungs: , “Everj^body tumble out for 
murder duty.” 

There was a simultaneous tossing aside of coverlets, 
lightning toilets, and a rush and scurry all together 
through the halls and down-stairs; a swift seizing of water- 
proofs and a scrambling aboard the wagon, which rattled 
up from its stable, some blocks distant, and whipped away 
almost without a pause. 

A young man, passing down the corridor, endeavored to 


THE DRAG-NET. 


161 


overtake tlie party, but was too far arear. He ran back to 
tlie telepiione-room and appealed to the operator, who told 
him the news. The young man heard half of it and rushed 
frantically out. He flew down the gloomy hall and dashed 
himself against a large door, through the glass panels of 
which a bright light flowed. At a long table within this 
room a dozen or more young men were playing cards with 
an altogether superfluous volume of noise and tobacco 
smoke Throwing the door open the newsbearer yelled: 
‘‘ Every mother’s son climb out. A cop’s been killed in the 
street right under our noses. Come a runnin’.” 

One loud shout, a crashing overthrow of chairs, a scat- 
tering of cards, chips and pipes, a momentary jam in the 
doorway, and, with directions shouted from lip to lip, the 
revelers abandoned the table and fled the scene. These 
were the night police-reporters of the newspapers, and for 
all their turbulence and questionable indulgence they will 
present you at breakfast, a few hours later, my dear reader, 
a succinct and well-phrased statement of the crime, so far 
as the facts are obtainable, in the very brief time that 
remains to them. 

The operators at both stations were left with instructions 
to order every man from his post to the scene of the crime 
the moment his half-hourly report came in. 

* * 

There are two material means emplo^^ed in catching 
criminals. One is the ferret and the other is the drag-net. 
The first is what has been called the mental feature ” of 
analysis. The drag-net, to waive the simile, is far-reaching 


162 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


physical force. The ferret moves on inferences extracted 
from facts by the processes of reason, and acts ever on the 
lines from effect to cause. It is purely psychical and 
reveals the serenest genius of man. Hence it has been the 
favorite custom to attribute to the “ detective ” the use of 
the ferret, while through the character the author has 
sought to project his own mentality. Such writers are of 
an unquestioned high order of mind, and the creators of 
Dupin, Lecocq, et al., so familiar to the reading world, have 
earned a most honorable mention. The drag-net, on the 
other hand, is thoroughly gross and mechanical. In the 
great majority of instances it is the most practical. It 
would be for that reason, if for none other, that the real 
detective would resort to its use. The fact, however, is 
that it is alone available to his range of talents. The ferret 
co-exists with education because that degree of analytic 
power of which we speak must come of mental training, 
from which there inevitably accrue to the mind an amount 
of information proportionate to the rigor and prolongation 
of the drill. Officers of the police are notoriously ignorant 
and therefore cannot be analysts. It is true that they, as 
well as other uninformed men, acquire a creditable degree 
of sagacity and numerous clever tricks of the memory, but 
they admit of no more comparison to the standards of Poe, 
Gaboriau and other respectable romanticists than does the 
street-lamp to the sun, or — if we dare — Satyr to Hyperion.'’ 
In point of effectiveness, however, there is nothing to be 
said, as the crimes of romance differ so radically from the 
actual misdeeds of men, and the fact that offenders in life 


163 




THE DRAG-NET. 

are punished with tolerable regularity is the best com- 
mentary upon the service of our peace guardians. Thus it 
is that the drag-net best meets the needs of the police. 
Preliminary to its use the “ ear-marks ’’ of a crime are noted 
and if not clear enough to identify the author, the class to 
which experience has taught that such signs belong is 
hauled in. Then from the class, the one — the culprit — is 
isolated by expedients, widely varying, of which the most 
common in the United States is force, as the incidents of 
our stoi^y may yet develop. 

>ic * 

From]opposite directions the two partrols reached the alley 
at almost the same moment. Small knots of wayfarers, 
which an undue incident will collect in the streets of a city, 
at any hour, were huddled under umbrellas at both ends, 
vainly questioning the officers who kept them back. The 
detectives and the partrolmen leaped from their respective 
wagons and hastened to the spot where the interest naturally 
centered. As the moments passed the group was recruited 
by policemen coming from their posts and the reporters who 
arrived in the order of their relative speed. Attention was 
first given to the removal of the dead officer. He was lifted 
into one of the patrol wagons and with a small attendance 
conveyed to his la*te station, there to be made humanely 
presentable to his family later in the day. The task of 
raising him to the litter was performed with much tender- 
ness and solemnity and it seemed a sacred duty that each 
officer should crowd around, and that a light should be held 
close to the face of the dead ere the rough tarpaulin pall 







164 




THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

covered it, and the wagon drove away. Each big fellow 
took his look with sorrow in his face and mutterings of 
regret and indignation. It was to be a vengeful search for 
the murderer surely and all the more thoroughly performed. 

The evidences of burglary had been discovered and some 
one had taken charge of the horse and wagon which still 
stood there. Kinnane presented himself to the lieutenant 
as in command of the detectives and the two hastily divided 
their fast-growing forces into small squads, each with a 
particular assignment. Both theft and murder were the 
evident work of professional ‘‘crooks” and the drag-net 
was to be drawn through crookdom. The lieutenant lifted 
his voice and said with earnestness: “Men, here is a bad 
job, and the reputation of the force is put up. Tom Chase, 
who we all know was one of the truest men and best officers 
that ever walked a beat, has been cowardly murdered, and 
it’s the duty of every one of us to leave no stone unturned in 
running down the party or parties thai did it. I promise 
the thanks of the entire force, from the chief down, to any 
of you that will catch the guilty man and bring him in, dead 
or alive. I will make your orders that no man needs to 
expose himself or stand on much ceremony for a minute in 
taking him. You all know your business, I hope.” 

This inelegant but significant speech was greeted with 
warm approval, and the squads broke away at a run to their 
duties. Others coming up successively were given their 
apportionment of the work by Kinnane, while the lieu- 
tenant, from the neighboring patrol-box, ordered the central 
to sound the qui vive at every station in the city. From 


THE DRAG-NET. 


165 


the precinct quarters in other central portions of the city 
similar sorties were made, while the district forces to the 
furthermost limits were given the alert. 

In twelve minutes from the discharge of Larue’s pistol 
a systematic search was under way and in less than half an 
hour every policeman on night duty had the news and was 
looking at some point for the culprit. A sense of personal 
indignity and a spirit of revenge spurred the policemen to 
the most sedulous efforts. Guided, each by the light of 
his own experience, they were merciless, and amid bursting 
doors and overturning furniture, protestations and curses, 
they scoured the regions of the lowly. The likely ” were 
arrested by the score, and no man of bad repute, whether 
housed or abroad, escaped seizure. The entire world of 
the vicious was aroused that night to account for itself. 
Fright and disorder swept through its confines, while the 
cells in the stations waxed populous. 

The banquet for which Scully had prepared was at high 
tide. The ^ six promised couples had exhausted their share 
of the festivities in Ginn’s loft before 2 o’clock and had made, 
the short journey to ’Mandy’s through the muddy streets 
and the alley-way at a gallop. The ladies had been per- 
mitted to dry their wet feet and rather plashy shins at 
’Mandy’s genial stove while the coffee boiled, and the gentle- 
men were supposed to have placed themselves in attire 
by scraping the mud from their shoes upon the door-sill. 
The event was thoroughly informal — there was not even 
a talisman required at the door, but the brief list of guests 
would have read familiarly to many. There was Scully, 


166 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


i 

de robber/’ to begin with, the father of the feast, a bride- 
well veteran of eighteen 5 Clabby Burns, scion of the old- 
time ‘‘ Mush-Head ” Burns, both father and son famous in 
their way; Boney Leggit, always mentioned as ‘Hhe insinu- 
ating young man whose slender frame once permitted his 
escape through a ventilator of the county jail,” and Dutch 
Pete, foremost in many a noteworthy rnalfaction. 

It is not within the limit of description to pass closely 
upon the ladies of this party — hard fisted young Jezebels — 
for there is a solemn, almost sacred ban upon woman’s 
fallen state that admits of neither parade nor jest. So 
while we find good-natured company for the nonce in dis- 
criminating print with Scully, Pete, and the boys, the 
girls will be accepted as present without review. 

There were toasts, too, and songs of a sort, but your fine 
feelings have been sufficiently ridden over with phrases of 
vice, most tolerant reader. What is there of fiash, cant, the 
language of thieves to edify or, say we, to amuse? The 
thief recites, omitting his corruptions of orthoepy: 

‘‘ The fly bloke stags the guy and steers him into a 
budge-cap, where he works him with booze till he gets 
groggy on his pins. Then he touches his leatlier for a 
century and a half, but is copped out by the fly-bob who 
rushes him before his wigs, when he gets settled for a 
thriplet.” 

In so saying he points a salutary moral as follows: 

The thief perceives his victim and inveigles him into a 
dram-shop, where he plies him with liquor until he becomes 
unsteady on his legs. Whereupon he (the thief) picks his 


THE DRAG-NET. 


167 


(the victim’s) pocket of his purse containing $150, but is 
arrested by the officer in plain clothes, who arraigns him 
before the judge, by whom he (the thief again) is sentenced 
to three years in the penitentiary.’’ 

This is argot, ‘Hhe language of the dark,” and the 
propriety of its use and survival has been debated before. 
To be honest, the chat of the board cannot be told you. The 
best that could be done would fall far short of a fair report, 
for “ argot ” reeks. 

But the banquet was at high tide and the viands passed 
around with an easy indifference to the law of courses. 
’Mandy superintended the service; Clabby Burns, with one 
of the unlabeled cans emptied of peaches and filled with 
beer, was rising to an effort in sentiment worthy of the 
occasion, when Uncle Bube appeared at the door from the 
inner room with finger upraised. 

“ Larry has ’woke and pears ter be in a bad way,” he said, 
solemnly. 

All had inquired for Larry on arriving, but being told that 
he was sleeping had been content to let him rest. 

‘‘ Go an’ see him, aunty; maybe it’s our noise bothering 
him,” said Clabby to ’Mandy, who was hastening to the 
sick-room. 

‘‘ Et aint your noise, chillern,” said Aunt ’Mandy, returning 
in a moment, ‘‘ Larry is goin’.” 

‘‘ Oh, not dying,” was the instant cry as the company rose. 
There is a chord of universal kinship, and death touches it. 
Shock and sympathy written, as by magic, oil the rough 
countenances gathered there* 


168 




THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

Yes, an’ mighty fas’,” was the wench’s ominous reply. 

“We’ll get a doctor now in spite of him, then,” said 
Scully. 

“ He’s beyond the doctah’s help,” re^Dlied ’Mandy^ shaking 
her head. 

“ Then get a priest. Don’t let him die alone,” interposed 
Clabby. “ There’s one liyes by the church in the next 
block.” 

There was a smoke-grimed, low-turreted church, uprear- 
ing a broad, black cross, in the next block. In the dingy 
residence at its side there lived a priest. His parishioners 
were worse than poor for the majority of them. But he 
was a good man, subject to the call of distress at any hour, 
in any state of weather, and to any spot. He had shrived 
many a victim of a violent end, and mauy asonof crime and 
daughter of shame, unused to such appeal, had sought the 
mercy-seat in the last hour through him. His home and 
his sanctuary were among them, begirt in a crowded mass 
by their abodes. He met the most of his flock, for a truth, 
on their deathbeds, but he fulfilled toward them the holy 
ordinances within him as earnestly as thoiigh the parting 
soul left monuments behind. 

To this priest, then, Clabby Burns hastened his steps 
through the darkness and storm. 

The others arose and filed softly into the room where the 
stricken youth lay. They surrounded his bed. He was 
beyond suffering and almost past the effect of sense, but bis 
eyes moved the circuit of their faca^nd he smiled bis rec- 
ognition, The girls stooped closely over him to stroke his 


THE DRAG-NET. 


169 


hair, adjust his pillows, and address him such words of 
compassion and comfort as their drear souls knew. There 
was a clujnsiness in their pity, unwonted to tenderness as 
was their lives, but what there was came from their hearts. 
Tears started to the eyes of some as the boy’s deplorable 
plight became manifest. 

One of the girls, a tall, strong-limbed creature, with 
a bold, masculine face, now softened with emotion — let 
the credit be hers — lifted his head in her arms and asked 
him in a choking voice : ‘‘Larry, didn’t you never have no 
mother ? ” 

The others approved the subject as one well selected. 
The dying youth,, shook his head with a weary look cast far 
beyond their clustered faces. 

“ Nor no father ? ” the girl inquired, with a deeper quaver 
to her voice. 

Again the shake of the head and the distant gaze. 

“ Nor no brothers, no sisters, no nobody? ” 

The girl now sobbed with a wild pressure of inquiry as 
though to surely revive in the failing mind some fond one’s 
memory. 

Other girls sobbed, too, and still the searching eyes 
brought back from their unkenned explorations no cheering 
greeting. 

“ No,” said Dutch Pete, presently, “ Larry never had 
nobody. He was a Good Shepherd boy. I knowed him 
ever since he came out.” 

Silence succeeded save as the girls sobbed and the young 
men heaved long breaths and stirred uneasily, when at a 


170 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

sound without someone whispered, ‘‘ There comes the 
priest,” and all fell back from the bed. 

The priest moved directly to the bedside and taking the 
youth’s thin hand looked benignly into his face. ‘ 

Something like a glow of welcome and trustfulness 
kindled there. 

The reverend father kneeled and the awed and grieving 
group moved farther back. Instinct bids retirement from 
such a counsel, as in the practicality of faith it is the sacred, 
secret communion of the soul with God. The holy man 
lingered in silence of subdued prayer. The dying thief 
may have rallied to words for him. Moments passed with 
painful laggardness for all save the one to whom they were 
the last. ’Mandy sat staring at her fire in the abandoned 
banquet-room. Kube stood by her, maundering the senti- 
ments the hour in him evoked. Grouped as dumb as lay 
figures, in a corner of the death chamber, stood the late 
revelers. It was as though the. roll of doom was being read 
and each abided his call. The gale whistled out of doors 
and the rain drummed upon the roof, cheating the scene of 
the silence its solemnity craved. But what is this petty 
staging to the tempest ? It careers over worse on its way. 
It had done so once not far distant that night, and was to 
once again, rather close at hand, ere morning. 

At last the priest arose. The hand he relinquished was 
ice, the face from which he turned away was marble, and 
the far-projecting eyes set in that face were stone. 

On the instant the outer door burst inward with a crash 
of hasps and hinges and the police poured in. The leader, 


THE DRAG-NET. 


171 


in soaking uniform, with his eyes shifting fiercely in the 
shadow of his visor, a man of arms and iron, halted with a 
start as the holy figure of the priest stood revealed in the 
dim light. He signed his crowding comrades back and 
these giants in the panoply of the law, eager in their con- 
sequential errand,’’ doffed their helmets and crowded 
against the wall. 

“ The dead are at peace. To the living remain the con- 
cerns of life,” said the priest, and he passed out. 

The drag-net had taken in Aunt ’Mandy’s. 

* ★ 

At the scene of the burglary, the lieutenant returned 
presently from the patrol-box and decided with Kinnane 
that there was material enough for their occupation on the 
spot. A few officers were kept at hand for assistance in 
whatever offered a task. The two superiors examined the 
wagon and transferred its contents to the store, which they 
entered through the open window. The interior was 
lighted thoroughly, and a careful inspection began. Atten- 
tion naturally focused upon the safe. The lieutenant and 
Kinnane scrutinized every part of it, and studied the traces 
of work and the burglar tools which they collected from the 
floor. 

‘‘ This isn’t amateur, anyway,” said the lieutenant after a 
time., 

‘‘ No ; they were cracksmen, sure”, assented Kinnane. 

“ Say, it’s a pretty job ; don’t you think so ? ” 

^‘Best piece of gophering done this long while.” 

‘‘ How do you suppose Chase got into it ? ” 


172 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Heard tlie noise, I reckon, and come up to see. They 
didn’t want anybody looking on.” 

‘‘I should think they would have knifed him or slugged 
him. ” 

‘‘ Maybe they tried to. We haven’t looked at his body 
closely. He was a pretty husky man and could make a bad 
fight so that they had to shoot him. There’s so much racket 
out to-night that a good-sized disturbance could have gone 
on before their shooting, without being heard. Did you 
ever see any of Badger Dick’s work.” 

No, why ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing, only this looks like it and if I didn’t know he 
was in Sing Sing I’d lay it to him first. But then there’s 
Red Lear}^ Con Macready, Monkey Travis, and that little 
fellow we had last year— what’s his name ? — the Omaha Kid, 
and Bill Thornes and a number of old friends who’d fit in 
here pretty neat.” 

Seems to me some one said they saw Bill Thornes 
around a few days ago. I don’t believe it, there’s so much 
out on him.” 

“ If he’s been here he’s laid mighty low, because I’ve 
heard no word about it. Couldn’t hardly be so. He 
knows there’s no room for him here and that he’d have it 
put on him foi* the first loose job that came around. We’ll 
leave things just as they are for some more of the old fellows 
to look at. They may get a notion,” and thus saying 
Kinnane walked toward the window. 

The lieutenant followed and they stepped out to be 
instantly seized by the crowd of now wildly importunate 


THE DRAG-NET. 


173 


reporters held back by the patrolmen. The lieutenant, 
better natured than Kinnane, gave heed and permitted the 
reporters to survey the interior while he furnished them 
facts and theories to aid in the construction of their stories. 
There was no clew, therefore nothing to conceal, and deal- 
ing liberally by the reporters, he was more speedily rid of 
them. 

Kinnane, meanwhile, had looked over the horse and 
wagon with the aid of a lantern and now stepped back with 
a plan in his mind. At that moment a watchman who had 
been exploring the alley with a dark lantern, approached 
and handed him a red leather pocket-book, dirty and wet. 

Kinnane took it, asking interestedly: “Where did you 
find it?” 

“ On the ground near the south end of the alley. It's 
just been dropped. I looked through it. There's no 
money in it, but there's papers that may help the case,^' 
was the reply. 

Kinnane set his lamp on the wagon and close within its 
glow opened the book. A warm flush passed over him and 
his pulse bounded for the lapse of a breath. Then the first 
unsteadying sense of triumph crystallized into nervy 
confidence. He held the key of the case in his hand, for 
sundry papers within the book revealed that it was the 
property of Henr}^ T. Jarvis, the suspect from Philadelphia. 

“ Lieutenant,'' he said, with particular fervor, “ I want to 
make this case all my own. I have some notions. My idea 
is that this old horse will go home of himself when he gets 
hungry and nobody comes for him after awhile. Now if we 


174 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


get his owner we may have something. At any rate we want 
to run down the horse’s connection with this business. So, 
if you’ll report for me and the other central boys to McMas- 
ter’s at 7 o’clock, I’ll follow the horse.” 

The lieutenant cordially concurred. 


CHAPTER XV. 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 

The shots behind him put Larue to redoubled pace. He 
ran in that panic-stricken manner that heeds no obstacle 
in a career like a madly frightened beast. His exertions 
were furious. He gave miserable voice to his terror. He 
whimpered at every stride, and as he tripped in a rut 
and fell again and again over ash heaps and barrels he 
arose each time, almost howling with dread and rage. He 
tore through the alley and plunged across streets, blind and 
reckoning against nothing between him and cover. The 
thrill of murder swept away the tense passion in which it 
was committed and left him a naked prey to the terror 
which rode on that crime’s consequences. The error of 
his methods ; the utter suicidal folly of his conduct as 
a discriminating criminal, was an anguish to his heart. 
Robbed in that swirl of emotions of all his studied traits. 
Jack was an animal and that animal was stampeded. 

Stampede ” is a coin of the untutored plains that won 
its way to currency. It is a ringing word, describing a 
prodigy. It comprehends in significance the flight of terrified 
herds and the thunder of their trampling hoofs. E’en from 

175 


176 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


the pastures it leaped to recognition on the pregnancy of 
its uttered sound. It implies insanity, for in that state of 
terror which braves all terror else the mind is lost. In one 
aborbing excess of fear, simple means of salvation are over- 
whelmed and crushed down. Witness the crisis in funds, 
the panic in a crowd, the rout in battle. These are “ stam- 
pedes,” and they are insane freaks. As cattle, affrighted at 
the bursting thunder-cloud, rush unfearingly into the abyss, 
so Larue, frenzied by pursuit, dashed wildly on heedless of 
the path. 

Soaking with mire, bruised by repeated falls, panting in 
pain for breath, with lowered head, extended arms, and 
clutching his mud-choked pistol, he flung himself at last 
into the shallow doorway behind his abode. Crouching 
where he fell he turned with straining senses to explore his 
track. His brain boiled in a cauldron of hideous phan- 
tasms. His pulse and heart flew in a pell-mell of palpita- 
tions. There arose before him, in outlines blacker than the 
ebon night, a prison and a scaffold. In his delirium the 
whistling gale that buffeted him became the taunts and 
whips of fiends, sweeping by in a shrieking troop. He saw 
and felt his enshrouded figure sink like a dart through the 
gallow’s trap and his throat constricted till he gasped and 
groaned for breath with the rope at his neck. He beheld 
himself dead, the sole corpse in the morgue at night and 
the rain that beat into his face was the drip above the slab. 
Legions of horrors sprang from his brain and swooping 
with wild detours into inky space charged, gibbering and 
screeching, down upon him. He imagined the sounds of 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


177 


organized pursuit, tlie clash of arms, the baying of hounds, 
the gloating cheers of the narrowing chase, all drawing- 
closer, closer, and near at hand, to die away, then grow 
again, and ebb and swell with the unceasing tide of goblins 
and the horrid panorama of death and hell, until an actual 
stir and a distinct and human voice not ten feet distant in 
the darkness aroused him to the defiant surrender of his 
life. 

He leaped erect, and leveling his pistol in the direction 
whence came the sound, shouted in a jumble of- words: 

Who’s that ? Quiqk ! One, two, three; or ITl let her go.” 

It’s me — the scout. Don’t shoot. Let me up and get 
into the house, quick,” came the swift, anxious answer. 

The familiar and friendly voice broke the spell, and with 
languishing senses he fell face to face with the practical 
emergency of the time. 

He lowered his weapon and whispered: ‘‘Come on up, 
Scout.” 

Minton’s careful approach and his low words, ‘‘Get into 
the house quick ” could be heard and Larue presently felt 
his groping hands and perceived his bulk. 

Chattering as in a chill Larue took out his key, fumbled 
for the keyhole and opened the door. The Scout passed in 
and Jack, slowly lockingThe door with his trembling hands, 
followed. To the rear stall, their accustomed rendezvous, 
they cautiously bent their steps. Minton, on entering, pro- 
duced his dark-lantern, took out its lamp, and with the most 
guarded care lighted its tiny wick. It illumined scarce a 
yard of space, but was enough. 







178 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


'' Get drink/' said the scout, imperatively. 

Larue nodded to indicate that was already his purpose, 
and, stealing out, dropped to his hands and knees and, 
crawling close to the wall behind the bar, secured the cob- 
webbed bottle and retraced his creeping course. 

As far as I can see through the mud your face looks 
chalky. Jack,” remarked the scout with a sneer. 

Larue, without reply, upraised his ghastly face and turned 
the contents of the bottle eagerly down his throat until he 
could drink no more. He dropped then heavily into a seat 
and Minton, with equal depth and avidity, drew at the 
bottle. 

For a time both sat silent as the volatile stimulant was 
speeding the full circuit of their blood and re-investing 
their chilled and depleted energies. Jack especially prof- 
ited, and as a flush stole into his grey cheek and a beam 
kindled in his eye he upstarted with a laugh and quaffed 
again. 

His eye for the first time met the scout’s and he laughed 
once more. 

‘^Fm glad you kin laugh,” remarked the scout. 

And why shouldn’t I, eh ? Why, this is the biggest joke 
on two old timers I’ve seen this many a moon,” rejflied Larue, 
mockingly. ‘‘ But what did you come around here for, damn 
you ? Why ain’t you cutting across country and out of this. 
Are you going to let yourself be bagged. 

‘‘ Now it’s my time to laugh,” sneered the scout? ‘‘AVhy 
ain’t I getting away ? Well, I’ll tell you why, ” and his tones 
grew venomous. It’s because I’m going it blind no more, 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


179 


and I want to know just where I stand in tins whole cus- 
sed business, and because I want to get in shape to get 
awa3\” 

Larue smiled intelligently, and drawing from his muddy 
pocket some wet and mire-stained bills began to separate 
them. 

“ In the first place, give it to me straight now, I want to 
know who Ox is,” continued the scout. 

Ox 5 yes, Charley Ox. Let me see if you aught to know,” 
and Larue paused as if reflecting. ‘‘ Yes, it’s only fair that 
you know your ground. "Well, Ox is Bill Thornes.” 

The scout bespoke some slight surprise and said reproach- 
fully: “ Why wasn’t I told? What was the use of keepin’ 
me out of it ? ” 

“ Nothing, only you didn’t need to know and it’s all day 
with Bill if they run him down here. You know he’s out on 
French leave.” 

‘‘Well, well, so I’m out of secrets,” mused the scout. 
“ But it’s all up now and won’t happen again. Do you know 
what I think of you. Jack? You don’t ? Well, I’ll tell you. 
You are the biggest fool that I ever trusted to boss a job. 
I’m the weakest kind of a fish to have been taken in by your 
flash ways and foxy looks. Don’t you know that you ruined 
this job ? ” 

Larue shot him a scowl and counted out some bills. 

“ For the Lord’s sake,” urged the scout, “ how do you 
expect to get out of this ? Come, brace up. We must agree 
on some idea — sh ! W^hat’s that ?” 

There came voices from the alley and the sound of heavy 


180 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


feet on the threshold, then loud and protracted knocking, 
followed by a creaking and groaning of wood, as though 
strong shoulders were at the door. 

The burglars glanced at each other with raisting eyes and 
paling cheeks. Larue raised his finger cautiously and com- 
pressed his lips. The scout set his hat over the lamp and 
in the darkness neither breathed. 

The attack on the door continued and a voice cried: 

Hello, inside there. Open the door.” 

There was a pause; then more knocking and another 
pause. 

Conversation in lower but distinct tones ensued. What’s 
this, anyway?” ‘‘Why, its Jack Larue’s. He’s a very 
likely party.” “ Here, some one go round to the front and 
look. ” “ I’ve been there and there’s nothing but the light 

over the bar. You can see clean through and nobody’s in.” 
“He lives up-stairs, though.” “Bang away at the door 
again.” “Hello, hello, up there.” There is no response. 
“ We’re losing good time and there’s many a more likely. 
Larue’s been on his q’s since he got into business. ” “ Yes, 
I understand that he’s dropped his old tricks. How’s that, 
Cormack ? ” “ So I hear, but I don’t know about it. He’s 

not likely in this, though. Give the door another heave 
anyway.” 

The heave is given, but the planks and bolts are stubborn. 

“ Thisll never do. It’ll take tools to get in here and two 
to one there’s nobody in.” 

“ There ain’t enough in it. I say I've been a bit down 
the alley. They’re up at old Eube’s. The light is shining 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


181 


out of every chink and the place is full. There’s a bag, 
sure.” 

“ You bet, and a dozen good places right along here.’ 

As the foot-falls swiftly retired the scout restored his hat 
to his head, Larue dropped his hand to his side, and they 
comtemplated each other for some time in silence. 

‘‘Well, here’s to the man that made that door,” cried the 
scout, starting forward at last with a laugh and drawing 
heartily at the bottle. 

When the scout finished,, with a long breath, Larue 
glanced with a smile at his right hand, giving it a toss as 
though to cast off some stain thereon, and drank until 
the bottle was empty. 

“ I’ve got $150 here,” he said after awhile. I’ll give you 
$100 of it. It’s enough to get you out and I owe you that 
much, anyway. Take it ! ” 

“ If you’d only agreed to pocket some of the sparks ! 
But, no, 3"ou wouldn’t have it that way. Well, this is your 
job, but I’m mighty sorry that its my neck too to save,” 
remarked the scout, gathering the money. 

“ For God’s sake, let up on me ?” cried Larue, peevishly. 
“ Don’t I know it ? Enough’s said.” 

The scout beat softly on the fioor with his boot and then 
ventured slowly. “ There’s another thing about this. Don’t 
it strike you that McMasters would give me a ticket-of-leave 
for the rest of my days if I’d squeal in the case? You likely 
killed that cop. He fell mighty like it.” 

If looks could slay the scout would have met judgment 
the next moment, for there was murder uttered in the eyes 


182 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


that met his speech. So plain was it that his cool assurance 
forsook him and he fell back from the table. 

^^If I thought for a minute that you thought of such a 
trick you'd never move from your chair alive/’ said Larue, 
slowly and tremulously. 

Now, come,” protested the scout, I’m not thinking of 
it. I was just saying, you see.” 

‘'But that’s mighty ugly talk and it ain’t the right 
kind just at this time. I’ll take it as you say, though, 
that you don’t mean it. Now, how about you getting 
away ? ” 

“I believe I couldn’t do better than to make a break 
right now,” replied Minton. “ By crawling and hugging the 
shade and keeping out of company I think I can get clear 
of the town before daylight. I believe anyway that there’s 
better hiding this bad night out-doors than inside while the 
excitement’s on. ” 

“ I wouldn’t be surprised but you’re right, and come to 
think of it, take this other fifty,” replied Larue. 

The scout took it promptly with a covert smile, and rising 
said: “Eight on the heels of the chase I believe it safest to 
get out the door, and once out I’m all right.” 

“Well, risk it, and here’s good luck to you. Leave the 
light to me. Here’s mine, stick it in your pocket. In the 
course of a month or so if we pull out of this well hear from 
each other and fix for better luck next time. Eemember 
me when you know it’s in my line to be of use to you. Well, 
here’s a good-bye to you. ” 

Larue finished his words at the door, which he noiselessly 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


183 


opened and closed as the scout, with a whispered ‘‘So 
long,” dropped out and vanished. 

Eeturning to the stall Jack seated himself and vexedly 
upturned the empty bottle. After a time he arose and with 
the bottle in his hand walked to the end of the lunch-counter 
and lifting a trap lid in the floor descended to the cellar in 
the utter dark. His share in a quart of whiskey had put his 
nerves in armor, and he was gaining such complacence that 
he recognized the phosphenes that floated before his 
alcoholic vision to be natural phenomena and never appre- 
hended for a minute that the noise of rats among the barrels 
and boxes could have been of other cause. Still guarding 
the dust upon the bottle and guided by touch he filled it 
from a cask as he had many times before. 

Again in the stall he drank and fell a’musing. He desired 
to reflect and project. He found, however, that his mind 
could shape no tangible form of thought, and he drank 
again. He was not perturbed, yet he lacked composure. 
He tried the effect of another drink. It was unavailing. 
He would pinch his brows, knock with his knuckles upon 
his head, and softly word over some premises of deduction. 

“Fm rattled,” he would say, uneasily, and would then 
lean back, tightly cross his outstretched legs, cover his 
eyes, putting himself as it were on the rack. 

“Tve killed a man, to begin with,” he drawled; “that’s 
pretty near sure. Anyway I’ve broken a house and cracked 
a safe, that’s positive. Let me see what’s to cover. What 
tracks did we leave ? Ah, curse it, I can’t quite remember 
anything. I couldn’t put two and two together to make 


1^4 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


four. What’s the infernal matter with me ? I was awfully 
shook up, true enough. I’ll try another drink 5 that may 
touch the spot.” 

He reached for the bottle, and his extending hand trem- 
bled and groped deviously. His sight seemed thick and 
his brain careened. 

Drink ! ” he cried, pushing himself violently from the 
table. “ Another drink, ha, ha ! Why, I’m drunk now. I’ll 
go to bed and think to-morrow.” 

Thus in his critical hour had Larue yielded to that delu- 
sion which has been the snare of many a vital plan and 
many a worthy purpose. He had sought in drink a spur 
to his senses only to find a curb, and where he had thought 
to gain stimulus he had drawn upon him an apathy from 
which he could not struggle free. He must now rest upon 
the fatal abeyance of another day. He arose and, neglect- 
ing the light, staggered out of the stall. He was besotted, 
maudlin drunk, and laughed at his many missteps with 
idiotic complacency as he made his way to the stairs. These 
he ascended in the most laborious fashion, and he succeeded 
in opening the door at the top only at the close peril of a 
fall. He found his room door ajar and the chamber dark. 
Cursing the absence of light he groped to the stand on 
which the lamp stood and with great difficulty lighted the 
wick and replaced the funnel. 

It was with something of a shock to his drunken senses 
that as the light sprang up and he turned about he beheld 
Bess sitting bolt upright in a chair near the window with 
her mutilated face unbandaged and her one eye scrutinizing 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


185 




him narrowly. She wore her house-dress and seemed in 
no way indisposed save for her bruised face, but there was 
that about her — exclusive of the uncanny manner in which 
she had been revealed from the dark— that Jack was not 
too drunk to feel. 

What's er matter ? ” he asked sharply, rocking to and 
fro ; ‘‘ what’re you doin' there ? " 

“I'm waiting for you, Jack,” she replied simply, but with 
some hidden meaning in her tone. 

An upright attitude had become unbearable to Larue and 
he staggered to the bed and sat on its edge. 

“Waitin' for me ! That's good, too. Why’n'y you go 
to bed and wait, eh ? '' 

“ I've spent too much time in bed for you to-day already, 
Jack.” 

“ So ? ” he hiccoughed with a laugh. 

“Yes, so,” she cried savagely, springing from the chair 
and advancing to the center of the room, “ and it's the last 
time I'll do it.” 

“ Goin' to run away, well, well,” he chuckled, and as if 
the matter was of no further consequence he threw off his 
mud-stained coat and vest, tossing them from him over the 
foot of the bed. His pistol fell out of the coat pocket and 
struck the floor with a hard sound. The woman's eyes 
moved toward it. Extending his leg he said to her : “ Pull 
off my boot.” 

“ Pull off your boot. Jack Larue,” she replied passion- 
ately. “ I will die before I ever touch you in service ox 
kindness again.” 




186 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

I’ll put crape on your other eye if you don’t pull off 
that boot,” he said, menacingly. 

'"It’s no time for you to talk about what you will do to 
me,” she replied, drawing herself up to full height. ‘‘ This 
is your death hour, Jack Larue.” And from the folds of 
her dress she drew a long knife with a blade polished and 
thin that played and turned in the light, as she raised it, like 
a pale flame. 

Larue dropped his foot and leaning back, supported by 
his elbows on the bed, stared at her aghast. 

‘‘ Put up that knife,” he cried, nervously. 

She laughed. 

Great God,” he thought, ‘‘ she’s crazy and she will kill 
me while I sit here unarmed and helpless drunk.” 

His mind ranged wildly over the field of expedients. 
He endeavored to sober himself by strength of will, but his 
entire morale was gone. 

Yes, Jack, I have repaid you with my soul for all that 
was good I got from you,” she said. I want your life for 
the inhuman wrong you have done me.” 

She was more calm and lowered the knife. Yet she 
seemed no less fixed in purpose and appeared to bide a 
time that lay within her plans. 

Despairing of effort in his defense Larue fell to cunning. 

‘‘Let me see that knife,” he said persuasivel}^ and with a 
leer, “ I don’t believe it will cut.” 

“ Have you got anything to tell before you die. Jack ? 
Have you got any scores against you that ought to be 
settled ? Do you leave any wrong the righting of which 


CHEATING THE HANGMAN. 


187 


will make you rest easier? I don’t begrudge you a fair 
chance in the next world. Come, speak quick.” 

Her manner was appallingly calm. 

But let me see the knife. You ain’t holding it right,” 
he replied with a fumbling show of good humor. 

“ Answer me,” she commanded. 

“ Give me the knife,” he whined. 

Answer me.” 

She held the knife upraised again, the point poised above 
him. He winced as he glanced at it, then made a scuffling 
effort to rise, but finding that he could not hold his feet he 
fell back with a thick laugh. 

Say, come,” he coaxed. I’m willing to be killed, but 
kill me right. Let me show you how to hold the knife. I’ll 
give it right back to you. Don’t catch it in that ten-cent 
tragedy way, but hold it like this” — he illustrated the 
method with his clinched hand, seizing the imaginary knife 
as one would grasp a sword — and thrust and lunge and 
rip. Why, you could only prod and hack that way. I’ve 
used knives, but that’s a secret. Won’t you let me show 
you?” 

His wheedling ruse was pitiable. 

‘‘ You black-hearted, miserable coward,” she laughed 
aloud. Now for your last chance — have you got anything 
to say ? ” 

He cast about him hopelessly with his heavy eyes. His 
clouded intellect was weakening under the strain. Con- 
sciousness was sustained with the severest stress of 
effort. 


188 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


‘‘ Oh, drop this now,” he snarled, an’ go to bed ! You’re 
crazy. ” 

“That’s where you’re right for once,” she cried with a 
ringing laugh. “I am crazy. You made me crazy and 
here’s what you get for your work.’^ 

Lowering her head and extending her left hand before 
her she rushed upon him. She fastened her fingers in his 
hair; he grappled her about the neck. She forced him back, 
rose over him^ and with her disengaged hand struck at him. 
There was a darting gleam with the blow and the hideous 
cry that escaped Larue came as prompt as the report suc- 
ceeds the rifle’s flash. 

The knife had pierced his heart. 

She freed herself from his clutch and backed away 

He lay across the bed, growing ghastly. When his 
rattling breath ceased to come presently his clinched jaws 
gaped and his closed lids lifted. 

Jack Larue had met the wretched end that his path of 
of life by natural result attained. It had been deferred 
for him an unusual length and that it came at last 
through the frantic wrath of an insane woman was to merely 
forestall the gunshot or the halter or the rot of the life 
cell. 

Bess had crouched at the bedside watching the death 
agony. When it was over she became conscious for the 
first time of a rapid rapping upon the door and a clamoring 
voice. 

She turned with swift action and ferocious mien toward 
the door, Then she recognized the voice, and with a sigh 


Cheating the hangman. 


189 


rose erect and brushed her hair back from her perspiring 
brow. 

Ah, a little more strength and composure for it. Then 
come the mad-house, the prison, or the grave,'’ she mur- 
mured. 

Oh, open the door. Jack ! Bess ! What’s the matter ? 
came the voice from without. It was Hackles’ voice, deeply 
stirred with alarm, and he beat upon the door. 

Harry !’' called Bess through the panel. 

“ Oh, Bess ! Is that you ? I’m so glad ! I thought you 
were — Oh, what made that awful noise ? What’s Jack 
doin’? Let me in ; I’m nearly scared to death out here,” 
Hackles cried. 

‘‘Never mind,” she said in reassuring tones. “ Go back 
to your room and dress, quick. I’ll be out to. you in a min- 
ute. Hurry ; hurry, there’s no time to lose. ” 

Immediate silence in the hall, indicating that her 
injunction was being met with dispatch; she hurried on 
garments serviceable for the street, donned hat and cloak, 
and veiled her face. Lifting Larue’s vest she took out his 
watch and in the back case found a paper which she thrust 
in her glove. She. extinguished the lamp, and with one 
passionless glance at the corpse went out. She waved 
Hackles, who was waiting for her, back from the door and 
turned the key in the lock. 

“ Come along,” she said urgently to him, and they 
descended the stairs and made exit by the alley door. 

“ What’s de matter wid Jack ?” asked Hackles, anxiously. 

“ Never mind him, he’s asleep,” and aside, with a smile, 
“ very sound asleep.” 


190 




THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

It was in the first gray gleam of dawn. The rain had 
subsided and the clouds, breaking up like an armada, on the 
beams of the day, were being driven by a stiff breeze from 
the path of the sun. Close shadows hovered still within the 
alley, but when the woman and the boy reached the street 
they had light. 

Bess halted, unfolded the paper, and scanned the writing 
it bore. 

Do you know where Eupert Square is?” she asked of 
the boy. 

‘‘ Yes,” he replied with interest. What number ? ” 

No. 50. Show me the way. Let’s hurry there,” she said. 

«« Why, dat’s where I had the fellow arrested. They’ve 
got no use for me there,” protested Hackles. 

“No use for you there, child? You will be the most 
welcome visitor that house ever had. But come along,” 
she urged. 

Without further ado, but still wondering. Hackles guided 
the way, and they sped down the slowly-lighting streets. 




CHAPTEE XVI. 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 

It came daybreak, too, in the alley behind the plundered 
jewelry store, where Tom Chase had fallen and whence 
went forth a night’s activity for the police department. 
In that black crevice, as well as elsewhere, the storm 
ceased with the dawn, but what with the shadows of 
masonry and the reeking of the roofs, both seemed slower 
there. 

The city’s day began in the shipping, and the tugs that 
had cruised the outer harbor through the night clustered 
in the river’s mouth with their convoys, huskily summoning 
the bridges to draw. Bells began to ring, some slow and 
bass, others brisk and high-keyed. A multitude of shrieks 
came up from the railroad yards as traffic there caught a 
fresh impetus, and thousands of factory fires, banked for 
the night, were stirred and quickened until their distillations 
rose and flowed in the route of the clouds. 

When the light had waxed sufficiently for his purpose, 
Kinnane set about the project he had conceived from the 
presence of the burglars’ horse. The invaded premises 
were now in the charge of their proper occupants, who 

191 




192 The mysterious mr. jarvis. 

surveyed the damaging relics with an excitement and 
anxiety that was perfectly natural. 

Kinnane dismissed his posse with such reports as he 
desired conveyed, and received information of the bootless 
results of the search up to the moment with a degree of 
composure and satisfaction that rather surprised the officer 
bearing the news. He mounted then to the wagon seat, 
clucked up the horse and drove directly out of the alley. 
At the exit he dropped the reins to a loose hold that exer- 
cised neither restraint nor guidance upon the horse. The 
weary animal moved slowly into the street, and swajdng in 
a way that may have indicated its perturbation in obtaining 
no direction from the driver, swerved slowly to the west- 
ward, and finding its voluntary course unchecked picked up 
a smart pace. At the first intersecting thoroughfare the 
horse again hesitated, and as no advising stress was laid 
upon the rein it chose again for itself and clattered away 
northward. The route was now along one of the great 
retail trading streets, hemmed by hugh buildings, that were 
perfect hives of industry from their basements to their top- 
most lofts. The shop-keeper found his realm here on the 
street floors, and except where grand magazines filled all 
the floors, the upper windows were gilt-lettered with the 
signs of twenty enterprises in one house. The scene was 
now under the dominion of the janitor and chore-boy. Doors 
rattled and slammed open successively, shutters came down 
with a clang, windows were flung up, the decorations and 
stock exhibits were brought forth to their daily post of 
prominence, and the entire line of house fronts were 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


193 


changing aspect with the magical effect, as a whole, of a 
dissolving view. Broom and brush held veritable sway 
and everything was looking up to a better appearance ere 
long. 

The horse jogged on, passing a great hotel, where through 
the yawning doors could be seen within the amazons of the 
mop and swab lathering and rubbing the tiled floor, wring- 
ing their soaking cloths and plying their arduous task with 
a muscular energy more than masculine. Other establish- 
ments in this same disagreeable, slop-bucket condition were 
passed as the horse jogged on. Dust and suds were every- 
where fastening their miserable imprint upon the wretched 
rising hour. 

Amid this activity a great movement was gaining way 
upon the street. The reflux of the evening ebb, that Larue 
had comtemplated from his door, was coming in with the 
same panoramic effect. That centralization of brain and 
brawn which made up the great city’s commercial energies 
was beginning, collecting its elements from near and far on 
every hand. The tin-pail brigade of labor’s army came first 
like skirmish clouds, trudging in a motley of race and nation 
as it had gone out. Behind this hardy van hundreds of 
converging columns were moving with a speed and precision 
that grew from intimacy with the ground. 

Grand legions were rallying upon this field of stone and 
iron and another stupendous battle in the unending war 
was impending. Yet the hosts, pouring in by file and 
platoon, came with neither equipage nor armament. No 
banners marked the advance; no drum-beats measured the 




194 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

tread of ranks; no bugles sang the war hymn, but the 
awakening battle was to be as serious, as full of casualty 
and death as any fought amid the fire and shot and sabre- 
stroke of martial conflict. The serious business, the hopes 
and fears of triumph and defeat, were plainly avowed in 
the faces of the troops, both veteran and recruit, and the 
fight would be waged with that earnestness which wins or 
meets destruction upon the enemy’s parapet. 

The horse went pegging along, meanwhile, doubtless 
puzzling its poor old wits at its unusual liberty and resolving 
to improve the situation, just as its strange driver shrewdly 
purposed, by making as near an air-line trip as possible to 
the manger. '\y'hisk, with a smart flirt of its tail, the horse 
made a perilous short turn to the westward again. Here 
Kinnane was for the first time compelled to draw up the 
rein for emergencies, as the street, being a market, was 
already crowded with all manner of wagons, carts, trucks, 
and drays, and the passage had to be deviously picked. A 
great commotion was in progress here amid the crashing of 
boxes and barrels, and the cries of myriads of captive fowls 
that shook out their rumpled plumage and gave their lungs 
a morning exercise despite their crowded quarters. There 
are those who see the crown of optimism in pot-fated 
rooster crowing in a crate. And true enough, if the world 
of men took to its woes with the same philosophy, many 
uncomfortable things that come in the way of nature and 
can not be helped would be met more graciously. So, 
while the fussy ducks straddle about and quack their vexa- 
tion, and the foolish geese shrilly declaim against their 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


195 


discomfort, let the cheerful chanticleer enjoy his matinade, 
even though it be his last. 

At the next turn, which was once more northward, 
Kinnane was compelled to pull up to a halt. A bridge 
which spans the afore-mentioned lagoon that trisects the 
city, was open for the passage of a long line of vessels. On 
the opposite bank one of the inbound columns of hurrying 
laborers was rapidly grouping in a baffled and impatient 
throng. For fifteen minutes counter processions of tugs, 
schooners, steamers and scows crept through the slips. 
When at last the bridge swung shut the crowd swarmed 
aboard like pirates upon a dismantled prize and rushed 
across in frantic efforts to make up time lost. The horse 
promptly dropped into place in the file of vehicles and 
passed over. 

Due north the course now lay for two. miles, through an 
avenue of small shops and lodgings, which ceased at last at 
a broad, green park, and the horse, as though shying at the 
solemn-featured bronze of Lincoln that stands warder of the 
way, turned abruptly westward. More than a mile the path 
pursued lay straightway. The area of pretentious buildiug, 
even of modest comfort was left behind. Nothing met the 
eye save of the severest stamp of utility. Eailway tracks 
were crossed with a series of teeth-loosening jolts; gas- 
works gave a momentary check to respiration; great distil- 
leries, with their vast pens of swill-fed cattle, steamed foully 
in the morning air; foundries, mills, and manufactories were 
passed as the route led over a canal, through a string of 
dirty shipping, traversing an island^ and finally crossing an 


196 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


arm of the all-pervading river, and the journey was pushed 
into the west side. The patience of the man was equal to 
the perseverance of the beast. Neither complained of the 
weariness that grew upon them both. Here were the 
bivouacs of the poor — verdureless and colorless — lying 
puddled'and drenched from the recent storm. Through a 
miry street into a filthy alley the horse forged, and stopped 
at length with a great, vaporous sigh at a door that covered 
askew the entrance to a low-roofed, ill-kept stable. 

Allowing a pause sufficient to satisfy him that the beast 
had reached a permanent halt, Kinnane stepped down and 
proceeded to a survey of the surroundings. He easily 
opened the door, and, forcing back the horse, which eagerly 
essayed to follow, he entered the stable. It was the merest 
shell, almost as wet within as without, and contained but one 
rude manger and scant space for the storage of a wagon. 
Kinnane passed into the yard, a small, bare inclosure littered 
with tin cans and strung with knotted and sagging clothes- 
lines. The house on the premises, an unpainted frame 
cottage, was scarcely a better shelter than the barn. The 
total aspect of indigence was deepened by the evident 
negligence and willing squalor of the occupants. These 
persons, as became their shiftless state, were still abed. 
Before proceeding farther, Kinnane, in grateful recognition 
of his dumb coadjutor’s services, took the horse out of its 
harness and stabled it. Throwing a measure of oats into 
the box and filling the manger with the best of the sparse 
store of hay, he left the hungry beast to founder on this 
unusual plenty and advanced upon the house. 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


197 


He knocked at the rear door, eliciting at once a gruff and 
snort-like challenge from within. 

The heavy fall of bare feet and a scuffle of clothing ended, 
after a time, in the appearance at the door of an evil-visaged, 
thin-bearded, stooped and mean-figured man, who, with 
heavy, though anxious eyes, took swift measure of his visitor. 

‘‘ Hello ! Who are you and what do you w’ant ? ” he said 
at once; then, with a leer, adding: ‘‘Jim Kinnane, I know 
you. What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Eulison, eh ? ” remarked the officer, recognizing the 
man. ‘ ‘ What are you doing here ? ” 

“ Livin’ here. But what’s the matter ? ” 

“ So, you are living here ? Well, well. Some time since 
I’ve seen you,” said Kinnane, commentatively. 

“Yes, livin’ here with my family, and that I ain’t seen 
you needn’t give you no worry. Can’t a man live honest ? ” 
the man retorted. 

“ Oh, yes, a man can live honest enough, and I’m glad 
you’re doing it. But I want you to go down to Central for 
a minute or so this morning.” 

“ What for ? ” sharply demanded the man. 

“ For no great shakes, but I want to talk to you awhile,’' 
lightly replied Kinnane. 

“ Then talk here.” 

“ No.” 

The man thought he saw no appeal from that one short 
word and the shake of the head, though both were mild. 
Their significance lay in a knowledge of their source. 

“I ain’t had nothin’ to eat,” he protested, 


198 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Never mind, I’ll get you something,” replied Kinnane. 

“ But the woman and the two kids. There’s nothin’ in 
the house; she’s drunk and theyll be hungry,” and he 
glanced worriedly over his shoulder. 

‘‘Don’t bother about them; they can rustle. They’ve 
had to forage many a spell before while you were away 
from home. So wake up there and get on your clothes 
without any more talk.’^ 

Kinnane pushed the man into the house, and himself 
entered to keep his captive in sight. The interior was mis- 
erable in the extreme. A cracked and red-rusted stove, 
perched on little pillars of brick-bats, with a few battered 
and blackened utensils, stood like the altar of desolation in 
one corner. Against the wall on the farther side lay a bed- 
stead indifferent to its legless state. Upon the frame, in a 
rat’s-nest of dirty quilts and blankets, a swollen and greasy 
faced woman sprawled and snored. Pressed close to the 
wall by her bulk, a boy and a girl, mere babies, literally 
locked in each other’s arms for economy of space, presented 
two grimy little faces serene in slumber. From the vacant 
strip left at the outer edge the man had evidently just arisen. 
Nothing, from the bare and unswept floor to the blotched 
and dingy ceiling, was wanting to complete the pauper 
picture. 

Eulison went about the room assorting his own garments 
from scattered heaps of rags and fitting them to his person 
with that ease and dispatch their shapelessness made possi- 
ble. He then washed his face in a bucket of water and 
dried himself with a corner of the bed cover, whereupon he 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


199 


was dressed. In leaving the house he turned to Kinnane 
and said, with a troubled look : IVe got a plug in the barn 
and I ought to feed'it before goin’.'* 

‘‘ Yery well ; we^ll go out the back waj^ then,” replied 
Kinnane, with a smile and a sharp study of his too evidently 
perturbed companion. 

Entering the stable, Kulison swiftly and anxiously took 
in the evidence of recent attention. The situation was 
apparent. With that trapped and guilty look, best charac- 
terized as a sickly grin,” he glanced at Kinnane and said, 

That's all. Let's go.” 

Kinnane ventured no remark, and if he hoped that Kuli- 
son would himself lead out he was disappointed, for the 
man settled into deep reflection and the journey by horse- 
car to the central station passed in silence between them. 

Directly to the quarters of the detective department, 
which we have already visited, the officer led his man. The 
wicketed door opened and received them, beyond which the 
world could but conjecture their further procedure. We 
have already witnessed the. business of the police in a few 
of its features, and arrive now at a matter which is the very 
essence of detective methods, a secret of secrets, persistently 
denied and impossible of proof. It is denied as the best 
answer to adverse criticism and is not provable, as there are 
only two witnesses, the one a criminal (or at best uncorrob- 
orated), who may affirm, and the other a commissioned 
officer of the law who, as has been said, denies. The sub- 
ject at issue is the interrogation of prisoners by the police, 
a process odiously termed sweat-boxing.” 


200 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


An extraordinary activity pervaded the department this 
morning. The commanding olSicers, apprised of the events 
of the night, were on hand at an unusually early season. 
Both relays of the force were on duty; the drag-net was 
still at work ; reports of progress were pouring in by wire 
and messengers. Nothing satisfactory; nothing that bore 
surface indication of promise had been received, and direct 
measures were in abeyance to developments. 

In a closet-like recess of the last of the three rooms a 
small door communicated to a narrow, spiral stair that 
descended to a vault of cells. This lock-up is almost inhu- 
manely obscure. It is a mere crypt in the huge buttresses 
of the foundation, partitioned into coffin-like cells by heavy 
sheets of iron. A solitary gas-jet affords the feeble allow- 
ance of light, and ventilation is a luxury the builder thought 
sufficiently supplied by the chance usages of the upper 
door. This dungeon is reserved for the most intensely 
secret purposes of the department, and, although not regu- 
larly employed for prolonged imprisonment, it is known to 
possess all the virtues of the olden oubliette to reduce 
obduracy. 

The little dooi: had this morning admitted a half-dozen 
handcuffed men who had been snatched from patrol wagons, 
hustled in from the street, and literally thrown down the 
narrow stairs. Everything was done with speed and little 
patience, pardonable, perhaps, by the urgency of the case. 
As each man took the plunge a moment’s silence ensued, 
and a sound of violence, ^hoked as in the hollow of the 
tomb, could, with the favor of absolute silence, have then- 
been heard above. 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


201 


On the moment that Kinnane entered with “his charge the 
little door burst open and McMasters, flushed, soiled, and 
excited, strode hotly forth. He wore neither hat nor coat; 
his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his shoes and 
trousers were splashed with water, and his hands, knotted 
with exertion, were abraded and blood-marked at the 
knuckles. He swore copiously in a strain that betokened 
rage, disappointment, and deep desire. Halting before the 
new arrivals he made a nervous clutch at Rulison as though 
to seize and finish him while in the heat for it, but Kinnane 
interposed, saying quietly: It's better to talk to him a bit." 

“ Talk ! ” shouted McMasters, “ I've talked till I’m played 
out. I’m trying other tactics. This is a little the worst I 
ever saw. Look at my hands from skull-thumping, and I’ve 
used the hose till I had to swim out. What’s in this duck ? ’’ 
There’s plenty,’’ significantly replied Kinnane. 

‘‘ Well, we’ll try him.’’ McMasters turned on the prisoner 
in unmistakeable tones. ‘‘ I want you to understand that 
my patience is about so long,’’ and the lieutenant thrust his 
fore-finger, with its length marked off by his thumb to the 
first joint, under Rulison’s nose. 

McMasters led the way to his private office. Eulison, at 
a sign from Kinnane, followed with clouded looks, confident, 
even cognizant from experience, of what betided. Kinnane 
likewise entered, closing the door behind him. The room 
was spacious and lighted by two broad, deep-set windows of 
huge plate panes through which the sight and sounds of the 
street were freely admitted. Being flush with the ground, 
the interior was open to the glance of those among the 


202 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


throngs upon the walk who cared to look in as they passed. 
The windows had cm^tains that rolled at the bottom and 
these McMasters, as though acting upon a casual and unim- 
portant impulse, lifted to the height of his eyes. This action 
scarcely diminished the supply of light but with it the street 
from the interior and the interior from the street could not 
be seen. Kinnane directed Kulison to a chair in a far 
corner, and joined his superior at the latter’s desk. Seated 
closely together the two carried on a conversation in 
undertones. 

It became Kinnane’s duty to acquaint the lieutenant with 
the situation as he had resolved it, and the matters required 
of the prisoner. The officer did so simply, without resort 
to any of the dramatic periods which other natures would 
have wrought from the story, for that which Kinnane com- 
municated had its sensational parts and seemed to be the 
bud of a tremendous police cause. 

The burglars, he informed McM asters, had left a horse 
and wagon by which they meant to remove their booty. 
Relying uj^on the animal’s instincts to bear its empty stom- 
ach home, he had set it adrift and had located its ownership 
upon the man then in custody. This man was Thomas 
Rulison, a former thief of petty practice, and receiver of 
stolen goods, who had done numerous brief penal terms. 
It had been more than a year since the fellow had been in 
transgression of the law. He was miserably poor, living 
with his family, and possessed, by means and for purposes 
unknown, of the said horse, equally ill-faring as he. The 
man had not yet been questioned and was virgin for the 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


203 


‘‘pump.’' Ketracing the course of his statement to the 
search in the alley, Kinnane exhibited the Eussia pocket- 
book, and, without any of that impressment which in the 
gravity of the circumstances might have been pardonable, 
he exposed the papers within the book w^hich fastened its 
ownership upon Henry T. Jarvis, and recalled to the lieu- 
tenant’s mind the significant letter from the Philadelphia 
police. He added the incident of the police court, -which 
had brought Mr. Jarvis under his observation, and located 
that gentleman’s quarters in the elegant precincts of Eupert 
Square. Before starting with the horse, Kinnane had 
detailed his colleague, Moore, to watch the Jarvis residence 
and keep the person of the subject, if he ventured out, 
under rigid surveillance, but to take no decisive step until 
further advised. 

As the officer progressed in his report the lieutenant 
made no effort to conceal his pleasure at the method and 
result of the work. It was certain in his mind that “ the 
mysterious Mr. Jarvis ” had shown his criminal hand. 
McMasters was hotly eager to develop the rich mine opening 
to view. It only remained to involve the wily and preten- 
tious knave in the mesh of conviction “beyond a reasonable 
doubt.” One party to the crime was unquestionably found 
in Eulison, and he must contribute to, if not complete, the 
sum of evidence. 

McMasters arose and approached the prisoner with the 
demand in a frank and airy manner: “ Eulison, what do you 
do for a living ? ” 

The man, who had sat darkly scrutinizing the two detec- 


204 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


tives, straightened up, crossed his legs, and scratching his 
•wire-bearded chin, affected an easy and good-tempered 
manner, as he replied: “Oh, I do expressin’ and odd jobs.’* 

“ You own a horse, don’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, a kind of one,” with an apologetic shrug. 

“ Now come to the point, and keep in mind what I said 
about my patience,” continued McMasters. “ Where were 
you with your horse and wagon last night ? ” 

“ I wasn’t out of the house — ” 

‘‘Well, my friend, it’s too bad, but I see you are about to 
begin lying to me,” and McMasters shook his head with 
affective pity, and plunged his hands deep into his pockets. 

“ If you’ll Let me get through we’ll understand each other 
better,” protested Eulison. “ Now, though I say I wasn’t 
out of the house last night I don’t say my horse wasn’t, 
because it was. I rented the horse and wagon out to a 
party that was goin’ a-fishin’, and I jes’ happen to have 
witnesses to that fact from my neighbors. And I want to 
say what is more, that if anything wrong happened in con- 
nection with that horse I don’t know nothin’ about it and 
kin prove it.” 

“ I’m afraid that you’re a little too well fixed with 
witnesses and too ready to prove things for your own good, 
Eulison,” sadly replied McMasters. ‘ ‘ But I’ll take you on 
your own ground. Who was the party you rented your 
horse to ? ” 

“I don’t know his name. He was decent looking and 
agreed to pay me ten dollars, five dollars down and five dollars 
to come. Hold on, don’t stop me ! I gave part of the five 


INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


205 


dollars to my wife and slie got drunk on it, and the rest I 
spent for beer and lost at poker, which I played in Pat 
Hoover's saloon, where I staid and played till after one 
o'clock, which I kin prove; and what's more and ought to 
end the whole business with me, I met Officer Cal Layman, 
who belongs up Eawson street way, on the corner 'most in 
front of my house on my way home and I talked with him 
for more'n fifteen minutes, which- makes it a good half-past 
one before I got out of sight of witnesses. What more do 
you want ? " * 

If you will let me ask the questions and confine yourself 
to answering them this thing will be pleasanter,” tartly 
rejoined McMasters. Come, now, who was the party that 
rented the horse ? '' 

Honest, just as I said, I don’t know," solemnly asserted 
Kulison. 

How many prior convictions against you ? " coldly asked 
McMasters. ‘‘About five, eh? More likely ten. Well, 
anyway, you’re a sure candidate for life under the habitual 
criminal act and don’t you know that I've got two or three 
good cases in which you answer description?” Don't you 
or do you know it, eh ? Now, like a good fellow, tell me 
the party.” 

“ For God's sake, lieutenant,” cried Eulison with a show 
of alarm, “don't do anything wrong. You’re mistaken 
about me. I know you think I know something, but, before 
my Maker, I don’t; and as for the party who rented the 
horse I never saw him before and I don’t know his name.” 

“This ends it,” menacingly said McMasters. “Now, I 



206 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

don’t care anything about your rent story, but I want the 
name of the man who, with or without you, had that horse. 
This is business and not child’s play. I give you just one 
holy minute to speak up.” 

“This is terrible on a man,” whined Eulison. “But I 
don’t know nothing about what you want.” 

“You tell me that again and 111 give you a knock on the 
jaw that you’ll not forget in a hurry.” 

“ I can’t help it,” was the dejected reply. 

At this the lieutenant jerked Eulison to his feet by his 
beard. The wretch gave an open-mouthed cry of pain and 
dismay, but recovered to meet the reiterated query with 
the dogged reply: “Killin’ me wouldn’t do no good.” 

His tongue had not left the utterance ere a smashing 
blow in the face from McMasters sent him to the floor. He 
started to rise, whimpering, but the lieutenant stood over 
him. 

“What do you say now? (A kick in the ribs.) Have 
you changed your mind? (An open-handed blow that 
drove his head against the floor.) Do you know now?” 
(A thumb-gouge under the point of the. jaw.) 

Knocked down as rapidly as he sought to rise, kicked 
and beaten, the wretched man crawled and rolled about, 
foaming and howling like a beast. Endurance at last 
reached its limit and he shouted: “ Let up ! Ill tell ! ” 

“ Tell quick, then,” cried McMasters, stepping back. 

“It w^as Bill Thornes that rented the horse/’ answered 
the man, huskily, as he staggered to his feet. 

McMasters and Kinnane exchanged quick glances of 



INQUISITORIAL MERCIES. 


207 


inquiry. The latter half-closed his eyes and nodded his 
head, as though to say: ^‘Surprising, hut none the less 
eminently probable.’’ 

Turning to Kulison, McMasters said impressively: “As 
you expect to save yourself from the penitentiary, is that 
right?” 

“ It’s dead right, and, for God’s sake, ain’t that enough ? ” 
snarled the man, groj^ing lamely to a seat. 

A knock interrupting at this moment, the lieutenant 
opened the door. An officer, hat in hand, said : “ Jack 
Larue’s knifed to death over his saloon and his woman and 
boy can’t be found. He hasn’t.been moved, and the captain 
below says that he’d like to have you hurry and take a look 
at the case. The captain thinks that it’s growing out of 
the killing of Tom Chase. I brought this note up from the 
armory for Kinnane, who, the clerk says, is with 3^011,” and 
the officer delivered a sealed letter, which Kinnane opened 
and read. 

“ A woman and a boy went into the house about daylight, 
and they are still on the inside. So is our man. Am still 
here. Moore.” 

“ By gracious,” exclaimed McMasters, when he too had 
read the note, “ that satisfies me. Bring Jarvis in, if it costs 
a leg. Send this fool for the present to the booby-hatch. 
I’m off for Larue’s. You bring in ‘ The Mysterious,’ and I’ll 
do the rest. Fetch him within an hour, if possible.” 

Consigning the bruised and limping Bulison to the base- 
ment cell, McMasters called two of his men and hurried out. 
Kinnane had already gone. 


CHAPTEK XVIL 


THE MYSTEEIOUS ” MR. JARVIS. 

The case was closing. To the police would belong the 
double credit of success and promptitude. A criminal 
mystery of scarce half a day was solved and the culprits in 
hand. Kinnane was sure of it, and it was with some elation 
in his grim way that he seized a cab with directions to 
Kupert Square. There was good prima facie evidence of 
Mr. Jarvis' participation in the burglary and attendant 
murder, and there need be no pause upon the order of his 
immediate arrest. 

Kinnane halted his cab on the main avenue where it was 
screened from the houses of Rupert Square by the foliage 
of the park. He moved toward the south entrance, where 
he beheld Moorepeering at intervals through the shrubbery 
which here thinly veiled him from No. 50. A brief colloquy 
ensued, the result of which was that Moore should post 
himself at the rear, alert for the call of help or attempted 
flight, and that Kinnane should enter by the front and make 
the seizure. 

Kinnane passed through the gate, crossed the drive, and 
sprung the bell at the door of No. 50. Its muffled summons 
returned to his ear from below. A slow, soft step upon the 
208 



“ THE MYSTERIOUS ” MR. JARVIS. 


209 


brussels-padded hallway presently reached him, and the 
door opened to disclose Eliza's comfortable figure and 
inquiring face. 

‘‘Mr. Jarvis is in," she said in reply to the detective’s 
demand. “Who wishes to see him?" 

“Tell him ‘a friend,'" said Kinnane, and, firmly forcing 
his way within, he said: “I will wait here." 

Eliza, with apprehensions aroused by the visitor’s stern 
obtrusiveness, bent her steps with some anxiety to the call 
of Mr. Jarvis. 

An instant thereafter Mr, Jarvis appeared in the hall 
from the rear parlor. His face shown blithely and he 
advanced with a brisk step. 

“Well, sir, what is your business?" he inquired, genially. 

“ I am a police officer, sir," said Kinnane simply, “ and 
want you to go with me to the Central." 

“Let me see," he said breezily, “I promised to kill the 
first damned policeman that called, after my last visit. 
What do you scoundrels mean by pursuing me ? " 

“ Don’t make any speeches but come right along, or I’ll 
collar you," sneered Kinnane. 

“Your insolence becomes you. You are no better, no 
worse than your kind. Did you hear me say that I 
am pledged to kill you," Jarvis was smiling broadly — 
the first smile to which his lips had played in many a 
year. A familiar friend would have been terrified; 
Kinnane, too, thought he saw some ruse to defeat him. 
He advanced. 

“But," Jarvis interposed, “ I have changed my mind and 


210 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Ill not) kill you. Not only that I will go with you my good 
fellow, and explain away your doubt.” 

Kinnane could not understand his man, nor could one 
of even life-long acquaintance have understood Mr. Jarvis’ 
strange demeanor that morning. Kinnane disposed his 
pistol and manacles more ready to hand within his pockets 
as Jarvis lifted his hat from the hall-rack and he seized his 
prisoner’s arm as they stepped out together. 

‘‘That’s right, take my arm,” said Mr. -Jarvis cheerily, 
“It looks more companionable and may disarm comment. 
What s that—” 

Kinnane blew a whistle. Moore hurried around from 
the rear of the house. 

“Pull the box for the wagon,” ordered Kinnane. 

“O, don't do that,” protested Mr. Jarvis, although he 
laughed. “ Don’t bring your noisy truck here. You will 
compromise me with my neighbors.” 

‘^You’ll have less particular neighbors before long,” 
rejoined Kinnane. 

“ So you have me convicted already. Well have your 
own way. I am in such good nature this morning that I 
will submit to almost am^thing. But you might let me call 
a carriage,” Mr. Jarvis went on, good humoredly. 

“ The wagon is plenty good enough for the likes of you,” 
savagely retorted Kinnane. 

Eliza had come to the door, and to her Mr. Jarvis said; 
“ I will be back in an hour. Make my visitors at home. 
Keep the woman in the house at all costs if she awakens. 
That’s all.” 


*‘THE MYSTERIOUS” MR. JARVIS. 211 

The wagon rolled into the driveway, backed up to the 
curb and, after Mr. Jarvis had mounted with the two 
officers, whipped out at the north gate, having paraded the 
front of the fifty houses. 

Kupert Square stood horror-stricken at its doors. 

The clothing he had last worn, the pistol and the mud 
upon them inspired the conjecture at once that Larue had 
been a party to the burglary. As soon as Kinnane was 
informed of this he needed no second thought to identify 
Larue’s missing wife and son with the woman and boy that 
Moore had seen to enter the Jarvis residence. Kupert Square 
was at once re-visited and No. 50 raided in force. Bess was 
found abed in a deep narcotic sleep, by which Mr. Jarvis 
had persuaded her to mend her hysteria. Hackles was in 
the kitchen effecting a truce with Thomas who had not for- 
gotton the episode of the sparrow. Woman and boy were 
routed out and loaded into the patrol wagon. 

Thomas and Eliza were left in the opinion that the end 
of the world was at hand. The language has no measure 
now for the feelings of the good people of Kupert Square. 
Mrs. Tierce’s strength broke under the strain and she went 
to bed with such an attack ” that Constance was infected 
and raved till the doctors came. It was terrible to Nol 49 
to reflect that but one thin wall had opposed between itself 
and the den of robbers and murderers which had flourished 
for months in No. 50. It was an awful reflection, too, for 
the whole of the square — awful ! 

In the afternoon a solemn group assembled in McMasters’ 
private office. The chief of police in uniform and dignity 


212 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


was there. The lieutenant himself in his most savage mien 
was there. Kinnane was there, stern and still. Bulison, 
expressionless and dull, was there. A member of the 
State’s Attorney’s staff and a lawyer in private practice was 
there. Mr. Jarvis, Bess and Hackles, too, were there. 

Mr. Jarvis’ request for legal counsel had at once been 
granted, and an old and reputable lawyer of his ancient 
acquaintance was called. It was at the conclusion of a long 
and hushed conference between Jarvis and his attorney that 
the group gathered in McMasters" office. 

The lawyer had been writing at great length from Mr. 
Jarvis’ dictation and held in his hand the manuscript. 
He was the first, as by prior understanding with the 
police officials, to introduce the meeting to the subject for 
which it was assembled. His manner bore some of the 
constraint that rested upon all, and, though he meant to 
appear self-assured and confident, he spoke with measured 
care. 

“ I have here,” said he, directing attention to the paper 
in his hand, ‘'Mr. Jarvis’ statement, which is meant to 
answer and satisfy that which you tell me, Mr. Chief, you 
hope to prove against him. He dictated his statement to 
me, and I have it here, ready to put in affidavit form if need 
be. This is a most deplorable matter — a strange, unusual 
matter — and my gratification is doubly great that my client 
is ena,bled so simply and easily to deliver himself from 
culpable blame. I have here, as I said, his statement, 
which, while it opens to view an uncommon chapter of 
life, disarms wholly and promptly all impugnment which an 




‘'THE mysterious” MR. JARVIS. 213 

ignorant observance of his really equivocal conduct may 
have laid against his integrity. This, gentlemen, covers 
such of my client’s affairs and movements as are necessary 
to explain away your suspicions.” Turning to the light the 
lawyer read: 

“ In the city of Philadelphia, state of Pennsylvania, on or 
about the— th day of June, 18 — my son, Charles, then in the 
fourth year of his age, left my home to play in the neighbor- 
hood during the afternoon and never returned. That he 
was enticed or stolen away was not for a moment to be 
doubted. The police, all constabulary authorities, and 
secret agents of every available character for such a 
purpose were called by me into the search, but through 
them all no word of the boy has reached me to this day. 
The boy was my sole surviving child, and the lapse of 
months and years without tidings of him steadily fed an 
anxiety and poignant grief that led to his mother’s death, 
and, I confess, has largely affected my life and nature. I 
expended thousands of dollars in the search and run to 
earth, regardless of expense, every shadow of a clew Eight 
years passed and I had resigned myself to the conviction 
that my son was dead, for I never believed him in life 
wholly beyond my reach, when, on a day about a year ago, 
I was visited by a man who asked me to call next morning 
at a house in Limping Lane, in one of the lower quarters of 
the city of Philadelphia. I had been approached in this 
manner frequently before, and though I was prompt to 
accept the call, I did so with little hope of profiting by it. 
I met there, however, an aged woman in the deepest 


214 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


poverty and distress. She thought then that she was up(5n 
her death-bed, but, fortunately for my testimony, still lives, 
unless she has died within the last few days. She told me, 
in fear of speedy death and for the peace of her soul, what 
purported to be the hidden truth attending the abduction 
of my son. Her name is Catherine Mosher. She had two 
sons, William and George. They were vagrants and thieves 
from youth. William and a man named Churley abducted 
my son. They brought him to her house, reduced him to 
their condition of rags and dirt, and kept him in close seclu- 
sion during the first hue and cry. William Mosher was shot 
and killed within a week after the abduction while house- 
breaking in Atlantic City, N. J. Churley was also shot and 
badly beaten at the same time by the householders. He 
made a partial confession to my son’s abduction, among 
other crimes of which he sought to free his conscience. I 
saw him at the time, Whatever hope was offered in the 
man’s, knowledge was blasted by his condition. He was 
demented. A gunshot wound and a terrible clubbing about 
the head had produced a disease of the brain. The courts 
gave the man Into my custody and I provided him for three 
years, in vain, with the world’s best treatment. He grew 
into a settled dulness and more oblivious of the past, so 
I gave him up. He drifted then for several years about 
the streets and workhouses. 

“ The woman continued her revelations. Upon the kill- 
ing of William, her other son, George, fled with the boy to 
the West. Within a month she received a letter from 
Montana stating that George had been sentenced to ten 


215 



''THE mysterious” MR. JARVIS. 

years in the territorial prison for horse stealing, and that he 
had left his charge in good hands. That was all she heard 
of George for nearly eight years, when she received a letter 
from a committee of citizens, in Cheyenne, Wy., announcing 
that her son had been hanged and that they made good 
their promise to forward her his dying expression of love. 
This was all she knew, and little enough, except that Churley 
had been to see her once or twice in the last year and 
seemed brighter. She thought he might be able to divulge 
some of his long-locked knowledge. It was a small hope, 
but I set out to find Churley, and from that moment my 
past year’s movements — so unaccountable to my friends 
and fraught with such violent strain of body and mind — 
take their date. I had spent more than $100,000 in the hire 
of detectives. None had brought me so good a clue as I 
then held. I would have sacrificed twice the original sum, 
or all I possess in the world, for a successful issue to the 
quest. But I determined to devote myself personally to 
the search. Nothing could have been more expensive, as I 
practically suspended my business. I was growing old. 
The tenderness of my whole life lay in the past. The past 
lay in the grave, save that by a chance my lost boy should 
still live. I had frozen up all acquaintanceship, because I 
could not bear the approach of friends, yet I suffered deep 
tortures in my isolation. My loneliness was at once a cell 
and a scourge. I had grown so sensitive on the subject of 
my lost boy that I could scarcely admit it to the considera- 
tion of others, even in the necessities of the search; I took 
my servant, Thomas Rawson, along to aid me, because I 






216 THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 

meant to be the intelligence of the undertaking and needed 
only manuel assistance. The search I made for Churley 
covered nearly a year and took me into associations which 
laid me open to the suspicion of the police. I was followed 
and arrested a number of times. I thought this supervisory 
attitude of the authorities to be unwarranted, but now 
believe it to have been justifiable. Churley had been 
wandering in the country, but when found at last afforded 
information of seeming directness. He was as unsettled of 
intellect as before, but had taken on a phase of low cunning 
that shone faintly with intelligence. He told me that my 
boy was in Chicago. That was all he would say. It may 
have been all he knew, but no allurements of money, cloth- 
ing, and comforts would induce the wretch to say more. I 
captured him and worked upon him with a skillful physic- 
ian’s help for several days, but could get nothing more than 
the grinning statement, ‘ Charley Jarvis is in Chicago.’ It 
is a heavy task to search the criminal classes of such a city 
as Chicago upon so blind a quest, but I had nothing else in 
life to claim me. I removed here with the utmost quiet, 
leaving my affairs in competent hands. I had begun work 
systematically, but had accomplished nothing, until a trifling, 
and at the time annoying, incident put me in possession of 
momentous facts. A boy killed a sparrow in the street 
before my house, and my servant, Thomas, in reproving 
him struck harder than he thought. Thomas was arrested 
for the assault. In the police court next morning I was 
present to give my testimony. My name was caught up by 
a man who accompanied the boy complainant and who gave 


<'THE mysterious” MR. JARVIS. 


217 


the name of John Larue. He surprised me by proving a 
knowledge of my son’s abduction. I kept an appointment the 
next day at his saloon, and took steps toward terms with him. 
He pretended to a positive knowledge of the boy’s where- 
abouts, and promised to produce him almost immediately 
upon a settlement. He was very guarded in his manner, 
and placed me partially upon honor, partially upon a sense 
of fear, not to resort to the police to extort information. 
I should probably have paid him his price when assured of his 
fair dealing, and I left him with an engagement to see him 
on the day following, which was yesterday. However, I was 
awakened early this morning by my servant’s presentation 
of the urgent request of a woman to see me at the door. I 
dressed and went down-stairs. The woman was young, 
perhaps comely, but so dissipated and wounded about the 
face that clear judgment of her appearance could not be 
made. She announced herself under the name of Bess 
Burton, the wife of John Larue, and said she was present 
to deliver me my stolen son. She was accompanied by a 
boy, dirty and ill-clad, whom I recognized to be the one 
whom Thomas had struck. Him she called my son, Charley 
Jarvis. She and the boy at that time, scarcely past dawn, 
made an uncouth pair, and I instantly suspected some double 
dealing. She was in a high-wrought condition — in a seem- 
ing ecstasy of grief and joy. I was inclined to have little 
patience with her story, but determined to examine her. 
She immediately proclaimed that she had killed John Larue 
and was even then fresh from his murder. She avowed that 
it only remained to her to see the boy, to whom she was 


218 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


attached, returned to his rightful home, and she would at 
once end her wretched life in the lake. I persuaded her to 
be seated and restored her to a degree of calmness. She then 
said that she had been John Larue' s confidante and knew 
the story of the boy well. Larue was in Dead wood, Dak., 
nine years ago when he got the boy. He was brought to 
him by George Mosher and left in his care. Sometime 
before that Mosher and Larue had been implicated in a 
ruffianly brawl that led to murder, in Philadelphia, and 
Mosher held that crime before Larue to force him to keep 
the child awhile. Larue’s more settled habits and his 
association with women made it easy for him to hold a child. 
Mosher went from the Black Hills over into Montana, and 
was there sent to the penitentiary, as I have said, for ten 
years. He adjured Larue to keep the boy, as there was 
money in him for both as soon as the sentence was served. 
With allowance of good time ” Mosher left prison a few 
months ago. Larue had meanwhile moved to Chicago, and 
had during the last year taken up with Bess Burton, who 
furnished these facts. Mosher started east and fell in with 
a teamster, who, traveling alone, took the ex-convict in his 
wagon nearly 300 miles across the desert from Montana to 
Cheyenne, Wy. The last night of the journey Mosher 
killed the teamster with a hatchet, and, taking a sum of money 
from the dead man, fled. He was caught and lynched in 
Cheyenne. Larue, who had been informed of Mosher’s 
liberation, made inquiries as time passed without word from 
him, and within the last week learned of the lynching. He 
was then free to make his own disposition of the boy, and was 


THE MYSTERIOUS ” MR. JARVIS. 


219 


casting abou*t for an expedient, when the boy himself threw 
the whole solution into his hands. Larue, however, was 
pledged, with two ci’iminals whom he had brought to town 
for it, to a burglary, and he carried out his plans. She 
knew nothing about the result of this crime, as she assassi- 
nated him the moment he returned. She had been told by 
John Larue, as a sort of provision to her advantage should 
the burglary miscarry and lead to his death or capture, that 
his ward, my son, the so-called Harry Larue, had a rich father 
then in the city. He at the time reserved the name, but 
told her that he would carry it, written upon a slip of paper 
that night, in the cases^of his watch. She found it there upon 
his death, and by it had been guided to me. She said that 
the boy had been neglected, save in training as a thief; that 
he is a pickpocket, and was at times employed by Larue in 
burglaries. Although positive evidence is wanting, and his 
nature has been strangely perverted but of the course to 
which he was born, I accept the identification. My lost boy 
was utterly without physical mark, but this boy has in com- 
plexion, eyes, and hair the family likeness. He is the 
roughened image of his mother, my dead wife, and I claim 
him as my son. ” 

This narrative, read by the lawyer in a situation so critical 
to all, wrought profound effect upon its hearers. There had 
been few interruptions, and as the revelations began to 
identify the dirty and ragged boy present with the long-lost 
Charley Jarvis, there had been a stir of surprise. Mr. 
Jarvis closed his statement with his little audience under 
strain 




220 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


Kinnane was first to speak. He drew from liis pocket a 
red Eussia book and asked simply, Is this yours, sir ? 

Mr. Jarvis recognized his property with a very natural 
puzzle in his looks. 

Hackles slipped from his chair, stepped forward and 
scrutinized the book as it changed hands. Then he said: 
'‘I tuk dat leather off’n de gent. I kin prove dat by 
Hinckey Dink an’ Holy Joe.” 

Every ground of suspicion was met and removed and 
Mr. Jarvis was unconditionally released. After a few weeks, 
Bess, in a trial where she had the moneyed assistance of 
Mr. Jarvis and all public sympathy, was acquitted of mur- 
der. Her physical health was so shattered that she lived to 
partake but little of the new life which Mr. J arvis and his 
son in their grateful affection opened to her. She was 
unable after her trial to leave the city and failed rapidly. 
One summer day, in the bright front room which Mr. Jarvis 
had vacated for her in Eupert Square, she lay very feeble. 
The doctors said that the end was very near. She had 
been stirring uneasily for some hours half consciously, in 
that last pathetic struggle of vitality upon the yielding sands 
of the river’s brink. At last she seemed to have found a 
more certain footing. 

“ Harry,” she said to the boy who knelt at her bedside 
and sobbed. Harry,^’ by the name that she alone had 
known him. Her voice was very low and weak and the 
effort she made to stroke his hair failed so that he grasped 
her hand within both of his own and kissed it as he wept. 

We’ve had a shabby life together. But it’s changing 


221 



‘'THE mysterious’' MR. JARVIS. 

for us both/’ she said. You are going to be a gentleman, 
Harry, and I hope a good and useful man. You’il never 
forget Bess ? ” 

The boy sobbed wildly, " Oh, no; oh, no! ” 

‘‘ I love to think that I will have a grave — I will have one, 
won’t I, Harry ? One kept green and with a little white 
stone marked for me ? ” 

O, don’t Bess, don’t I You shall have everything,” the 
boy cried in torture. 

“ And sometimes in the pleasant afternoons,” she went 
on, ‘^you will come, even when you have grown to be a 
great, good man, and sit awhile and think of the old, hard 
times, and of me.” 

The boy could not speak in his anguish, and the dying 
woman continued : 

Harry, my boy, do you remember the sweet lady that 
used to come in dreams to your bed in the little old cubby- 
hole across the hall ? She’s here with me, looking lovingly 
into my eyes and singing — hush, don’t you hear it ? — the 
little rock-a-bj^e tune. She’s singing, oh, so soft, and I’m 
so sleepy. She is closing the curtains now and I can hardly 
catch the tune but it is sweet, so sweet. Good-night 1 
* * * . 

No. 50 Rupert Square is now inhabited by persons of the 
caste of the quarter who spread neither mystery nor scandal. 
The old home at Philadelphia is reinvested under the joint 
supervision of Thomas and Eliza. Mr. Jarvis has left “ The 
Mysterious” as a queer memory to the guilds of crime where 
he is sometimes discussed as one of the strange things of life. 


222 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. JARVIS. 


He is exclusively the Henry T. Jarvis of position, scarcely 
less cold and formal than before, and a student of sociology. 
He believes in the force of environment as against the 
assumptions of blood. Hackles is rapidly disappearing in 
the development of Charley Jarvis, and countless unfolding 
instincts confirm his legitimacy in the Jarvis heirdom. 

There is, in a small but well-located plot all its own in a 
cemetery near Chicago, a grave, and the marble at its head 
is inscribed: ‘‘Bess, more than a sister to Charles, and the 
adopted daughter of Henry T. Jarvis, Philadelphia.'" 

A simple record of her name and birth had been intended, 
but her family vehemently protested. Mr. Jarvis had 
promptly and proudly substituted the present inscription. 

Bill Thornes was caught and tried for complicity in the 
jewelry burglary and attendant death of Officer Chase. 
Such is the lottery of courts, however, that he was acquitted 
of that and immediately thereafter sentenced to twenty years" 
imprisonment for a South side burglary committed while he 
was in jail, as McMasters well knew. 

The part taken by Minton, “ the scout,"" was never learned, 
and when last heard from he was serving a small sentence 
in the Michigan state"s prison for robbery. Hinckey Dink 
and Holy Joe are still careering their mystic way, having 
yet to meet the simple trap that will sooner or later tiip 
them. "Mandy and Bube live on as of yore. 

A political upheaval has since transformed the police 
force. McMasters has retired to citizenship and Kinnane 
is walking a beat upon plain patrol duty at a sub-station. 
The water in the hydrant is still as cold and wet, the fires in 


‘‘THE MYSTERIOUS” MR. JARVIS. 


223 


the sweat-bo3; ” full as merry and warm, and the knuckles 
of the new chief of detectives are quite as hard as heretofore. 

There is no abatement of traffic in liquor, and life and 
property are not any the more secure than in the day of 
these events, nor is poverty less common, nor is government 
more pure. 

Such history is still a’ writing in the Fair City. 


THE END. 





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